Chapter Text

LUCERYS

”When everything you knew has turned to ashes, the only thing you can do is dance over those ashes… and hope you suffocate. Let yourself be free from the pain and embrace death.”

Among the children of Rhaenyra Targaryen, dear Lucerys was the first to die. A child slain by his kin, his uncle: Aemond. He died along with his dragon, an end befitting a dragon rider with their dragon who had accompanied him since birth. But Lucerys was merely ten and six when he died, perishing as he fell to shipbreaker bay. By his name, Lucerys was a Velaryon, thus as the ocean took him, it was an irony he could not stand.

So he watched, as he fell and fell, until his destroyed body was taken by the water. His dear Arrax had been devoured and what little strength he had was wasted as he watched the severed wings of his dragon float above water, as he sank. Then his mind calmed, praying.

Do not let my mother mourn me. Do not let my mother suffer. Let her find me, let her say her goodbyes one last time and have me burned by the flames of Syrax. Have them find Arrax and let them turn us to ash.

He eluded himself… forgiveness. A delusional sense of calm overcame him as he tried to resist the anger burning through his soul.

Vengeance, a voice speaks, Avenge yourself… The simple desire to burn, to take revenge, to crush his enemies who made them suffer, to kill all those who caused distress upon his mother— he had lost his sister to this war. 

The anger fed on him, until he felt nothing…

Then there was something.

His eyes ripped open, a gasp escaping him as he looked up towards the cloudy sky. His heart was pounding in his chest and he clawed at the ground beneath him. It was cold, wet, and felt odd. It was white— snow , he finally realized as he sat up. Something was wrong…

Someone was approaching him, eyes lighting up as he tried to speak. They had dark hair, blue eyes, and were quite tall. Two men on their horses, unmounting them as they spoke. Their words were of the common tongue of Westeros and Lucerys breathed a sigh of relief when the two did not speak of Dothraki. 

“Excuse me, good sirs—” He gasped as one of the men walked right through him. Again was his heart racing, fear devouring it as he stared at the men. Again, he tried to speak to them. “Sers, mayhaps you can,” he yelped as his hand went through the man.

Agony ate at him as he fought off his tears. Again and again did he attempt to speak to the men, but again and again could they not hear nor feel him. Death had been unkind and turned him into a ghost, haunting the lands of the living. He did not know how long had passed since his death, neither did he know where he was.

Snow took the lands.

He clasped his hands tougher, praying, not to the seven, but to the gods of Valyria. He spoke in the tongue of his ancestor, hoping that they would hear his cries. “ Gods above, Balerion… ” He whispered, speaking the name of Aegon the conqueror's dragon, and the name of the god of death, “ Guide me… Bring me back to my family, my kin. ”

He knew not of the response the gods would give him. He was ignorant to their will as he felt himself sink again. Pressure crushing him from all directions, cold feeding on him as he felt water surround him. In mere seconds, did he finally feel heat as he breathed. He was not drenched by the sea, staring at stone floors as he looked up from the ground. 

The place continues to be unfamiliar to him as he frowns and wanders. It isn’t until he is pinned to the wall, knife at his throat that he finally focuses. In front of him was a girl… she was his age, a year older or maybe younger. But his throat went dry as he took in her features. Ones that he could never forget as they were plastered upon his mother and younger half-brothers… and his uncle. With silver hair and eyes like amethysts, Lucerys was left breathless as he looked at the fearful yet defiant eyes of the girl.

“Who are you?”

She was dressed in blue, not in the same blue of the Velaryon’s but one so vibrant and deep it surely belonged to royalty.

“Again, who are you and why do you wander in my fortress?” 

Lucerys continued to stare at her, before finally realizing she could touch him. She could see him. So she could hear him; and he did not speak in the common tongue of Westeros.

“ My name is Lucerys Velaryon… Son of Rhaenyra Targaryen. ” 

Her lilac eyes went wide and she pressed her dagger closer  “You speak lies. It matters not that you can speak Valyrian, what you say are lies.” She hissed, “Lucerys Velaryon died a century and a half ago, starting the war between my house. It is not possible that you are him!”

Again did his eyes go wide. A century? A hundred years had passed since his death? Impossible… That would mean… Bile rose up from his throat as his legs failed him, sliding down the wall.

The nameless girl, a Targaryen apparently, stared at him in shock, realizing that he held no deception in his voice, as well as his horror. “I’ve been dead for a hundred years? That can’t be! I— I just died a few minutes ago… My uncle…my dragon… Oh Arrax,” he gasps, clutching his chest as he refuses to look up to the girl. His family was gone.

“I— Calm down now… I am sure we can figure out what has happened to you…” The uncertainty in her voice was not helping him.

“You— What’s your name?” He whispers, desperate. 

The girl hesitates for a moment before finally speaking, “Daenerys Stomborn of house Targaryen… Daughter of Aerys Targaryen, second of his name and Rhaella Targaryen.”

“Are you the queen?”

“N…No…” She says, helping him up to his feet. Her gaze was soft yet cautious. It was right of her, but Lucerys couldn't help but feel threatened by her. “Our rule… Ended almost two decades ago.”

Lucerys was about to faint.

The Targaryens usurped from the throne they had conquered. It was an absurd concept. But then again, by the words of King Jaeherys, only the house of the dragon could destroy itself. He suspected that the supposed dance had been the beginning of their end.

“I…I have been dead for a century…” he whispers to himself.

He was never going to return to his family.

Years have passed since his initial arrival. Lucerys quickly figured out that only Daenerys, the last remaining Targaryen, could interact with him. It was a sad thing, both the near extinction of his house and how he barely spoke to anyone but Daenerys. He grew to care for Daenerys, as she grows, he does so the same. Physically, the two of them were the same age. Whilst Daenaerys was ten and seven, he would develop into the body of a young man of ten and eight. As she grows, he grows. They had been connected from the moment Lucerys helped her bond with her dragons. 

He was her closest confidant. One that people could not harm nor come in contact too. He spied for her, listened and watched, and soon he acted as her hidden strategist. 

Lucerys had been there to witness Daenerys claim the Unsullied as her army, burning kraznys in the process. He had been there when she Mellisandei and advised her not to kill the girl. Someone who could speak Bastard Valyrian would be useful to them, as Lucerys would not be the only one doing the translating. Even then, Daenerys never told anyone of his existence.

There were times when people called her mad for whispering to herself, to which he told her to elicit the rumors of her being a dreamer. That easily drove such rumors away, replaced by the whispers of a prophetic girl with silver hair and three beasts as her children.

Both of them had also discovered that the dragons could see him. Lucerys was particularly fond of Viserion, usually having the dragon flying by him. 

He had been the one to teach her, although his experience was not as vast as his mother's and stepfathers, it was better than Daenerys'. "Dragons are not slaves, they are companions. 'Tis not us Targaryens who choose the dragons, it is the Dragons who choose us." He once told her, guiding her hand to Drogon's snout as she flinched at the heated scales. But he did not care for her fright. He had been similar, but he was now hardened after years. A good bond with your dragon meant a better hold on him. The thought instantly forced his mind to his initial death. 

Lucerys had been present with her unbecoming. Of her burning down King's Landing. Lucerys was her solace, crying on his lap as she confessed her sins as if he were a septon. She cried, wailed, and spoke of what she has done even if he has been the witness to all her sins. What Daenerys loved about him was that he stayed by her side, that he was present no matter what happened. And Lucerys would never think to leave her.

Only Targaryens could see him, and thus he was rightfully cautious when Jon Snow could see him. He never told Daenerys of it, fearing that she may do something foolish. Targaryens and their bastard nephews with dark hair were never a good sign after all. He had made it a habit to avoid the man like the plague. Though he had been absolutely furious when Daenerys allowed him to rise on Rhaegal. 

He resented Jon who flew on Rhaegal. Whilst he, who has yet again lost a dragon, was deprived of the sky and was forced to stay on the ground. As the two flew, he grew lonely and left, finding a bit of solace in Sansa Stark.

But his time as Daenerys' guardian had to end. 

Lucerys could only exist in the mortal plane if a Targaryen was alive. As long as their bloodline continued, he could walk the earth as an everlasting entity that would watch over their family. But that came to an end… 

Kinslayer! The voices in his echoing mind screamed as he was forced to watch Daenerys die by the hands of Jon Snow… or should he say Aegon Targaryen. Not a bastard, but one that he considered to be. A bastard— a bastard who had never known what being a Targaryen meant. Jon Snow was more Stark than Targaryen.

As he had said… Targaryens and their bastard nephew were bad omens. 

"Kinslayer…" he says, and Jon Snow finally snaps his head towards him. "You have the audacity to ride her dragon… and now you take her from me."

"You—"

Lucerys wanted to scream, but he felt himself freeze as his vision blurred. He stumbled, hearing Jon's voice. He didn't want Jon, he wanted Daenerys. He wanted to kill the wretched bastard for killing Daenerys, wanting to scream a single word that would bring flames. 

" DROGON! " He yells and the dragon comes to his aide. Jon stumbles, pushed back by Lucerys as the ghost prince takes Daenerys into his arms. "I should burn you… I should—" Lucerys trembles, staring at his fading body. 

"No… not yet… just a little longer—"

"Luke wait!"

Lucerys looks him in the eye, and there is fear. There is a reflection, his reflection in the eyes of Jon Snow. They looked so painfully similar. Targaryens who looked like men rather than gods. But he could see his reflection, and he saw blood red irises that were his. He laughs, crazed, haunted, mad; as they called his precious Dany. 

"You've seen me… you've heard her utter my name." He laughs at his face, "You know who I am! You know what she is to me!" 

"I didn't– I didn't mean to— please!" Jon yells, horrified as Lucerys casts him a bitter grin. Drogon lowers itself and allows him to sit upon its back. 

Lucerys looks down at Jon, "Jon— no… Aegon Targaryen." He finally says. His name, his relations, his every being were bad omens. "You are the end of this house." 

And Drogon, the dragon known as Balerion Reborn, destroys what Aegon the Conqueror created— the iron throne.

As Drogon flies to Volantis, the dragon could feel him fade. Could feel him set Daenerys on its back and finally, Lucerys kisses her on the forehead and bids his final farewells to her. Lucerys could only exist in the mortal plane if a Targaryen lives— this merely confirms that Jon was no Targaryen. 

" Geros ilas, ñuha jorrāelagon hūra. "

Lucerys dies once more.  

He wakes once more.

But this time, he was not lying on a ground of snow, nor was he on a bed. He was standing, something cold in his hands as his surroundings burned him. His eyes snapped open, glancing around until he felt something warm run down his face and the sounds of screams haunting his mind.

He looks down.

He saw familiar silver-blonde hair; a boy screaming on the ground.

"Aemond."

Lucerys is haunted by the past and he finds himself tormented by fate.

Chapter Text

JACAERYS

”When I gaze into the fire I see death. When I gaze into the fire I see a future that burns. When I gaze into the fire I see our demise.”

Jacaerys Velaryon died a supposed hero's death. Vermax had flown too low to the waters and was struck by an arrow, in the process, he was forced to jump off his saddle as his dragon fell, thus; arrows rained down on him and he perished. He had died, the second among the bastards of Rhaenyra Targaryen to fall.

But Jace didn't simply die.

He thinks himself cursed as his soul was expelled from his body.

He had watched Vermax drown and his body impaled by hundreds of arrows. It was a painful thing to look at. Bile rose up his throat, but nothing came out. He was in pain, the phantom sensations vibrating across his body as he finally blacked out. He didn't know whether he fell into the sea or not, but he awoke next time by his mother's side.

She was weeping, wailing, and desired vengeance for her boys. Joffrey was the only Strong Boy left. His mother was going to lose everything if she did not win the war. Jacaerys went searching for her brother, unable to handle the pain and grief of their mother. He found Ser Harwin. They had cried, apologies were made, and pain was shared. Next was Laenor. They had found him by the sea, mourning. The three of them cried together.

He found Jocelyn Baratheon, who coincidentally did look like them. The mother of Rhaenys Targaryen had coddled him, claiming him to be a precious boy, him along with his brother. She claimed them as her great grandchildren, regardless of their blood. Ser Lyonel Strong had been by her side, laughing and ruffling his hair. 

But no Luke. He found not a single hair of Luke. His precious little brother who shared the skies with him— was nowhere to be found. Jace felt like going mad.

He watched as his drunken usurper uncle sat upon the throne that was supposed to be his mother's, supposed to be his. He watched as Aemond took a Strong bastard to his bed. Watched Helaena died. He watched them all and yet he never found his little brother. He mourned for Luke, cried and cried, running away from the ghosts of his family and cursing the gods for not returning Luke to him.

Jace resented his uncles. When Aegon thought himself a good king, when Jace slipped into his uncle's chambers at night and found him snapping awake and crying out his name. He was startled, confused, and frustrated. Jace… Jace… I'm sorry… oh gods— Jacaerys wanted to kill his uncle. Aegon who cried out his name at night and he who would wrap his hands around Aegon's neck and try to suffocate him.

Then there was Aemond. The audacity Aemond had. He wanted to kill the man just as he wanted to kill his brother. Aemond had impregnated Alys Rivers, who was apparently his paternal aunt. In the moments of him haunting Harrenhall, he was greeted by the horrific sight of a drunken Aemond muttering Lucerys' name. He was suddenly struck by the thought of his brother haunting Aemond, but his brother was not anywhere near their one-eyed uncle.

When Daemon died, he only caught a glimpse of the man before he was swept away by some dark entity. He also saw Aemond, and the first thing his uncle did was look around, crying for Luke. What greeted Aemond was a scathing look from Jace who wished he could pick up a sword and strike his uncle then and there. But he couldn't.

"Be calm, my boy… we will find him eventually… or perhaps he's already passed on." Laenor told him, crying when he watched Joffrey fall.

Jace was Harwin's boy. That was a little fact not many people knew. Luke was their mothers, the Mama's boy between the three of them. Luke was more like their mother than any of their fathers. Then there was little Joffrey, only a moment in Laenors arms but he had become their fathers favorite. Joffrey was Laenor's boy just as he was Harwin's. 

When Joffrey drifted towards them, a sleeping soul, Laenor took him into his arms and kissed his forehead. Jace hugged his sleeping brother, before letting him go and allowed him to be taken by whatever god there was. Maybe Luke had also been taken by the gods. He would have been happy if they did— his brother would have been safe.

"Maybe Joff, Luke, and our little sister Visenya are together." He voices, as the clouds seem to part. "I'm gonna meet with them… I'm—" 

"Go, my son." Harwin says, clasping a hand over his shoulder. Laenor simply laughs, kissing his forehead as Jace grins.

He was going to see his siblings again.

He was going to—

Jacaerys lost the light and drowned in darkness.

Jace opened his eyes to See Harwin bidding him farewell. He felt tears sting his eyes as he grabbed his blood father's hand and cried. "There will be fire upon Harrenhall… With smoke, please run." He whispered, hoping that this was a dream that could have come true. Harwin was shocked, before taking into consideration of the boys words.

Ser Harwin nodded, planting a gentle kiss to his forehead. His father was smiling at him, assuring that he would avoid the flames. The very flames that would turn Larys Strong into a Kinslayer. Jace hiccuped, "Brother and son kills brother and father." He whispers, startling Harwin.

Jace blacked out again, never knowing that the burned bodies in Harrenhall we're not of his father and grandsire's. I sound like Helaena… 

Jace opened his eyes to flames. He listened to someone scream and froze as he looked down at the bleeding boy on the ground. Over the boy was the very person he had been searching for for years. A dagger in his hands and a blood spewing from his broken nose. Lucerys stood their, a haunted look on his face as he dropped the dagger.

"Aemond…" he heard his brother whisper, trembling as his younger brother fell to his knees and held their wailing uncle.

Aemond screamed at him, but Lucerys cradled his head and started to apologize… over and over again, saying sorry like it was a mantra. Aemond whimpered, crying into Lucerys shoulder. There was morbid sense to the scene— Lucerys' murderer crying into his shoulder, and the victim of kinslaying comforting the one who killed him. Jace was concerned.

"I'm sorry uncle. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Forgive me. Please forgive me." Lucerys whispered over and over again as Aemond grasped at the back of his head. Pain and confusion in Aemond's remaining eye. Lucerys couldn't look at him, Jace had noticed as the guards took them away and called for their parents.

As Maesters patched up Aemond's face, Luke was just standing there, quiet as their mother held him. 

I'm back… he thought, noticing the major differences in scenarios. Luke hadn't apologized or reacted to cutting Aemond like that, neither was Laenor present last time.

However, Luke was staring at the fire like it was the most interesting thing in the world. In the previous time, Luke had been silently crying, hiding behind their mother. This time, his brother looked devoid of any kind of emotion.

The events unfolded as just— Queen Alicent demanding for Luke eye.

However…

"He can have it…" Luke whispered but they could hear him. Shock waves through them, including Jace and Aemond who stared at Luke. Jace winced as he saw a flash of blood through dark pools of black, confused as his brother stared right into Queen Alicent's eyes. "He can have one of my eyes… take your pick." 

"Lucerys!" Their mother yelled, bringing him into her arms and glaring at the horrified Alicent. But their mother was more concerned of her unmoving son, as if waiting for his eyes to be taken from him. 

"Luke… Luke, shut up." Jace whispered, grabbing his brother's hand. Their gazes finally met and the two of them just knew… recognition burned through them, a sense of horror exchanged in their eyes. 

I'm not… he cut himself off, clutching Luke's hand tighter.

"Mother… mother—" Aemond grasped out, catching his mother's attention. Alicent was quick to turn to her mutilated son, "Do not mourn me, mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon." 

Ah, such familiar words. 

Which was then greeted by the word— "Cunt." From his little brother.

Jace coughed into his hand, unable to stop amusement from forming in his eyes.

Most of the events were similar. His mother gets maimed by Queen Alicent, her bleeding out the blood of the dragon. The fire crackled at that, as Luke held his hand tighter. As if his younger brother was telling him to pay attention, to keep his eyes on the two women before them. The women were considered the leaders of the Blacks and Greens.

They were forced to their chambers, but Jace had forced himself into Luke's room and found his little brother holding a dagger. He was frightened, thinking Luke would hurt himself, instead, the blade was hurled towards him. It missed by an inch, imbedding itself into the wall. He stared at Luke, who stared right back. 

"Brother." He spoke, a child's voice yet it seemed so cold, "'It's wonderful to know that I am not alone at this time."

"So you really are a traveler— like me…" he whispered, "Why did I never find you as a ghost? Ser Harwin, Ser Laenor, and I searched for you for years! Where did you go?" He asked, taking his brother's shoulders.

Confusion riddled Lucerys' expression, "Ghost? You stayed in our era?" 

"What? What the hell are you talking about?"

Luke was quiet before rage burned in his eyes, "I woke up dead a nearly two centuries into the future! I had to watch as the last Targaryen died and only discover the fall of our family through books. You're telling me you were just expelled from your body and— and what? You just woke up here?! I died twice!" Lucerys yelled, slapping his hands away and raged. He kicked the chair closest to his bed, grabbing a pillow and screaming into it. 

Jace was… frightened. He never saw Luke so angry. He fidgeted as his brother continued to scream into the pillow, quietly taking his brother's hands again and whispering comforting words to him. Lucerys took a moment to calm himself, falling to the bed and groaning in pain. His brother was heating up.

"Bastard—" he whispered, "I should have killed that bastard, Jon—" Jace did not understand nor did he know who his brother was cursing at. But he was worried and held his brother's hand.

"What the hell are we going to do?"

"I don't know…" Jace admits, trembling as he kisses the back of Luke's hand. Sorrow and helplessness in his eyes, unable to look at his brother. To his surprise, Luke grabbed his face and forced him to look at him. Jace was frozen as he saw the scathing look on his little brother, fire blazing through dark hues that seemed to flash purple, then red.

"We'll have to do something. It doesn't matter if we have Aemond or Aegon killed—" Jace paled, "So long as mother is on the throne— hell, maybe not mother. At least one of us has to be on that throne. If not, then let's destroy it."

Jace pulled away from his brother, confused and frustrated, but also disturbed by the lack of humanity Lucerys displayed. "What is wrong with you! You died from kinslaying, why the hell would you become a kinslayer? And— And how would we even destroy the throne? Aegon the Conqueror had Balerion melt the swords of his enemies and place them upon his throne, it's impossible." He claimed, not knowing what had gotten into his brother.

But Lucerys looked him dead in the eye, cupping his cheek and pressing their forehead against each other. Jace hiccuped, trying to prevent tears from spilling, acting as the strong and brave elder brother. But dearest, darling Luke only offered a little smile that looked too forced for his liking.

"I don't… I don't think the throne will want me. It will reject me." He said, pursing his lips. He hissed, stared at Lucerys who dug his nails into his brother's cheek. 

"We'll figure it out brother… but for now, you must be calm and keep your head. One day, we will know whether you become king or not."

Jace sighs, burying his head into Luke's shoulder.

"Maybe."

Chapter Text

LUCERYS

”Apologies are given to those that you have wronged. I have offered mine and you’ve accepted, so why have you not apologized to me? Let me deny you, and watch as you beg for my forgiveness.”

His footsteps sounded louder than he thought. As a ghost, Lucerys never heard his own steps. They were silent as he walked around the halls of the redkeep, the only sound was the steps of Daenerys. It often irritated the supposed mad queen, but she had grown used to the silence of his being. A terrifying kind of silence, really.

But he was alive now. His eyes filled whatever light it reflected from, and his flesh no longer cold, it contained a fire like that of dragons. Lucerys had grown accustomed to the coldness of his own skin. The warmth felt unfamiliar, knowing that his own blood was just as hot. He knew he was alive from that very heat. But Lucerys had accepted the cold as his own after a while.

The halls of driftmark were quiet as he wandered to a certain prince's chambers. He had gone out of his way to memorize every passage in Dragonstone and the redkeep, familiarizing himself with driftmark wouldn’t be much of an issue. He stood in the corner, frustrated with the guards who were stationed outside. He supposed he would be needing a better route to visit his wounded and future murdering uncle.

The window, he thought and quickly took another turn. Once outside, he slipped through the multitude of knights that were patrolling, finally finding Aemond’s window. The wall was quite well built, but Lucerys had climbed one of dragonstone’s towers in his time as Daenerys’ guardian. 

Unfortunately, he underestimated his own body.

I should have just gone with Jace to stop Ser Laenor from faking his death, He wanted to slap himself for being so damn stubborn, But no!  I had to be stupid enough to go apologize to that kinslayer in the middle of the fucking night. He was careful to place his foot on a well placed brick, grabbing on to another as he pulled himself up. 

He finally grabbed hold of the ledge, grinning as he pulled himself up. Seeing the slightly foggy image of his uncle writhing in bed made him hum, satisfied to see the bastard suffer for a bit. But then he remembered that this Aemond was still a child.

“Damnit.” He cursed, pushing the window open and slipping into the room. He did not expect Aemond to wake up and chuck a pillow at him, then proceeded to aim a cup at his head. Thankfully, he had dodged just in time and deadpanned at his uncle.

Fear was the only thing he could see in Aemond’s eyes. Surprising really, but Lucerys expected much from a child who just got his eyes gouged out.

“Uncle…”

“Have you come to take my other eye?” Aemond hissed, taking a step back. It seemed ridiculous but Aemond was right to be afraid of him.

Lucerys shook his head, “I came to apologize…and if you wish for it, offer my own eye.”

Losing an eye was now meaningless. He was more focused on stopping the war and preventing Aegon from sitting on the throne. If Aemond wanted his eye, he would give it to his uncle in order to stop at least one thing in the godforsaken dance. If his mother won’t sit on the throne, then he could convince his brother to take what rightfully would be his. Bastard or not, Jace was firstborn.

Aemond looked confused. He supposed that would be normal for children. He merely sighed and took out a dagger, startling his uncle. But contrary to what nightmares Aemond was having, Lucerys did something else. “Would you like me to do it or will you take it yourself?” A debt to be paid. 

Aemond had desired his eye in the previous life. But in this life, Lucerys would give it to him without a fight. He would give it to his uncle and be done with it.

“What?”

“Do you want it or not?”

“You’re insane! You— You’re mad!”

Lucerys shook his head, “I’m a Targaryen. It is to be expected.” Daenerys, a sweet girl, had fallen into madness. What was stopping him from the same fate as her?

“I apologize for your eye. But I don’t regret defending Jacaerys. You were threatening him and I acted on instinct.” He whispered but Aemond could hear him. “You don’t need to forgive me. I want to apologize and pay a debt. I can’t let this family be more divided from my own foolishness…so uncle…”

He offered the dagger to Aemond, “Take my eye and let us go our seperate ways.”

Aemond shook his head, the bandages around his eye were turning a faint crimson. Outrage was clear upon his uncle's expression as he spinned the blade in his hands. However, his uncle grit his teeth and glared at him.

"Put that blade down… bastard. "

Lucerys wanted to stab said blade in his other eye.

He kept his composure. Right now, his dearest uncle was but a child of ten and one and Lucerys was unfortunately was only of eight namedays. Even though he was mentally older, he still despised his uncle for such—

He sighed, "Okay." He reluctantly followed his uncle's instructions, putting the blade down and kicking it towards him. Hints of frustration in Aemond's remaining eye sparked as he picked up the blade and narrowed his eyes at Lucerys.

Lucerys tested his own patience, "Congratulations on Vhagar." 

"You and your cousins were spewing venom of how I stole her from Rhaena." Aemond snapped.

"It was foolish of me to think like that." He admitted, this time, more sure of himself. "Dragons are not slaves nor are they possessions that are inherited. Vhagar accepted you as her rider… I shouldn't have thought you a thief for being chosen by her. But it was disrespectful of you to take Vhagar on the day of her rider's funeral. It's not… I think you could have claimed her, at least a day after."

Aemond winced. The reality of the situation was that he had claimed a dragon on the day of it's rider's funeral. It would be seen as disrespectful and it clearly agitated the children of said Rider. Laena Velaryon was a respected and well liked figure in society and he had just played thief and taken her dragon. He had been uncouth.

"I really am sorry… but you should know that what you did was wrong if you consider the timing. It's impressive, really, claiming a dragon like Vhagar so young."

He took in a deep breath. Aemond was traumatized and mentally unstable due to their foolishness. Jace, Aegon, and himself had bullied Aemond for being dragonless. It clearly affected his uncle, who took a chance with Vhagar. Although it was risky, Lucerys was also go blame for it.

"I'm sorry… for everything. For bullying you. For the pig— I'm sorry." 

It felt wrong to apologize to someone he resents so much. Aemond had killed him. Aemond had chased after him in the storm, scaring his precious Arrax and Vhagar devoured his dragon. Regardless if whether it was an accident or not, Aemond had chased him and he died.

"That's all I have to say. Goodbye uncle."

"Wait— Why are you even apologizing? Is this some sort of joke—" 

"It's not. You deserve an apology. If Aegon and Jacaerys don't give it to you, I will." He clicked his tongue, turning in his heel and crawling out the window. "Don't Tell your mother I snuck in here. If you do, I'll be placed in the dungeons… But I suppose you would prefer that." He bluntly stated, seeing confusion and fear mixing through Aemond's expression.

He hums, jumping out the window and he hears Aemond yell. His uncle pokes his head out of the window, clearly frightened. He only smiles flatly at his uncle, letting go of the brick and letting himself fall. 

It was like Shipbreaker's bay all over again. And yet, Lucerys felt more sure of himself. He instsntlt grabbed hold of a branch when he almost landed on the ground, panting at his own recklessness as he grinned. His limbs were intact and he would have enough energy to run back to his chambers. Jace had better be finished with his side or else he'd slap his brother across the face. 

He glanced back at Aemond, who was still watching his movements. That would end, as he took a turn and vanished back into the castle.

"If our father is dead—" 

"He's not!" Jace yelled, outraged by his accusations. "I ran for Rhaenys when and dragged her to mother and father. We listened about how they were going to fake his death and he'd run off with Qarl, somewhere in Essos."

Lucerys merely raised a brow, shaking his head and falling to his bed. "What happened then?" 

Jace hummed, "Rhaenys and Corlys got into an argument with out parents. They then started to explain that Laenor didn't want to be trapped in a marriage of convenience even though he loves us and cares for our mother. Still, Grandma Rhaenys had cried a lot and almost slapped Ser Laenor."

"Hm… does this mean Joff still gets his father?"

"Luke…"

"What? Joffrey was expectedly Laenor's boy. Your Harwin's—" Lucerys no longer cared for his status as a Bastard. "And I am clearly mother's."

Rhaenyra had always been his favorite parent. Whilst Jace had the tendency to bond more with Harwin, Lucerys had always clung to his mother more than anyone else. It was one of the few things he had in common with Aemond, quite ironic really considering how their mothers were at odds. 

Still, Lucerys was quite happy that Laenor wouldn't fake his death. He only knew of such a thing from Jace hurriedly explaining to him what happened when he was a ghost. Lucerys had only learned of what happened to his family from history books and he despised every single second of reading of his family's fall.

He resented Aegon actually. He wanted to kill his uncle for burning their mother right in front of their unborn little brother, the other Aegon. Why his mother decided to name her son Aegon, he did not know.

"Have you apologized to Aemond?"

"It is done… as well as an apology for the fucking pig." Jace winced at the mention of the pink dread . "I offered my eye again, but he didn't want it. Ironic that he literally got me killed for it. Ha!" 

Jace was fidgeting on the spot, Lucerys noticed it quite easily. He smiled tiredly at his elder brother, sighing to himself as he waved lazily. "I'll deal with Aemond, you deal with Aegon. I already know what to do, but what am I to expect from you?"

The parallels of the Velaryon brothers with Alicent's children were not quite good. Aegon and Jace were the first sons. One was a usurper and the other was the heir to the throne who could not become king. Essentially, Aegon had taken Jace's crown as well. On the other hand was him and Aemond. They were second sons but they couldn't be more different. Lucerys was set to inherit driftmark and was often said to inherit his mother's title as the realms delight, on the other hand, Aemond was said to be a good warrior, good, but feared.

Aemond was a good fighter, Luke was… mediocre. Aegon was a drunk, Jace was a diligent.

He could go on and one about how different yet similar they were. Even Daeron and Joffrey were in similar situations, aside from the fact that Daeron was nowhere to be found at the moment. Their youngest uncle would be of five namedays by now whilst Joffrey was only two. The rest of his mother's children had yet to be born: Aegon, Viserys, and little Visenya.

His heart ached at the thought of his stillborn sister. He wondered if Daenerys would have been similar to his sister, in looks that is. His selfishness had often made him slip and called her Visenya rather than her true name.

"Brother, if we let this time continue, we will be plunged to war… again." Lucerys said, "Although Joffrey is at the mere age of one, what are the chances of him being like us?"

Jace grimaced, "Not as high, but not as low. Balanced, if I were to say. From what I know, we're the only ones who have returned."

"The blood of old Valyria and the first men…" Lucerys chuckled, "Balance."

Jace sighed, shaking his head before allowing a smile to form on his face. Time was their enemy at the moment.

"In six years or so… we'll be going back to King's landing. What do you suppose we do before that?" He asked. Lucerys would let Jace take the lead for now. His brother needed to learn how to be king. Once he became Lord of Driftmark, he'd have to annoy his brother until he decides to make him hand of the king.

The hand of the king needed to be a Targaryen this time. Grandsire denied Daemon of the place, then appointed Lyonel Strong… it has to be someone who shares our blood, or at the very least, have some connection to our family. He thinks, staring at Jace.

"Train, form connections, make alliances." 

Ignoring the fact that his plan seemed a bit too broad, Lucerys nodded in agreement.

"Let's prioritize… Arryn, Baratheon, and Stark. Those three houses will help us in the long run, as well as prove our legitimacy. I met Jocelyn Baratheon as my time as ghost, we looked extremely similar to her. House Arryn will also help with our legitimacy since their features are usually of dark hair and such."

He takes it back, his brother actually had a good plan. However, the addition of the Starks disgruntled him. The Starks were quite problematic for him, considering how he still wanted to kill Jon Snow. A source of subtle frustration and conflict was the presence of the Starks.

"Cregan was a good ally to us… I think he'll become Lord of his house in four years."

"Four years is too long."

"He's only two years older than me, Luke. He'll be turning ten and six in four years time. Two years is enough time to—"

"So we'll have to wait for the wolf to grow up? You want to prioritize Stark with tis complication?" He scoffed. He was already tolerating the Baratheons, he'd have to find a way to deal with Starks. "I say we go for Martell."

"Luke… We don't know what the Martell's are capable of." 

" I do. Plus, with their support, there'd be a good connection with Dorne once your king."

Compared to the Starks, Lucerys actually found more logic with the Martells. Whilst the Starks were situated in the north, there was a lot of time to consider them, unlike the Martells. Jacaerys needed allies, they need allies that would bring a great impact. The Starks were loyal to the crown, so long as the Targaryens did not harm them in any way.

Jace sighed, "Still… it won't hurt to try." 

"Fine then." Lucerys clicked his tongue, "If you wish to ally with the Starks, you will be doing the negotiations. I'll deal with the Martells. It's like hitting two birds with one stone." 

"Why are you so adamant on befriending the Martells?" 

"Something happened in my side of death." He wryly explained, a bitter smile on his face.

Perhaps he felt bad for Elia Martell after what foolishness Rhaegar Targaryen had done. That stupidity had cost even Daenerys and gave birth to Jon Snow, someone he loathed. Elia had a son as well, another named Aegon, and he pitied the child for his mother's fate.

"Let's discuss more of this on the morrow."

Chapter Text

RHAENYRA

“Being a mother is no easy thing. It gets harder when your children hide from the world, hide from you. I fear the day where I am too late and I have lost them entirely.”

Her sons has been acting different. It started with Jace bringing Rhaenys and Corlys to a very private discussion between her and Laenor, to which caused her good-parents to cry and scold them both for the outrage they would have done to finally annul. In the end, Laenor did not need to flee as his parents came to understand his preferences.

She and Laenor soon annulled their marriage, which didn't seem surprising to her precious boys. Their excuse had been that grief overcame Laenor and he wishes to flee from Westeros for a time. It began with their annulment, to which all of Westeros seemed to be under the delusion that they were tearful for such seperation. They were, but not in the romantic way. 

Their darling sons had been understanding, though blatantly threatening Qarl when they were to depart for Essos. Laenor had laughed loudly, promising to visit them. Her boys had flinched at that and she could painfully understand why. The last time their father promised to return, he never did. Deep down, they knew that Laenor was not their blood father, but they loved him regardless of that.

Although it was little Joffrey who took it the hardest. Merely a two namedays and their darling son had wailed and cried when he was taken from Laenor's arms. The obvious devastation of loosing his father was not ignored by them. To their surprise, Joffrey would only stop weeping when Jace had taken him into his arms. Their eldest looked rather tear, while Lucerys looked composed. It was an odd thing to see, but Rhaenyra had heard sobbing when Laenor had left.

"Luke… my sweet boy, please allow me to enter."

Her son had acted so cold when Laenor departed to Essos. Though she heard muffled cries from behind the door, she sighed when she got no reaction. Her worry as a mother overcame her politeness, opening the door and was greeted by a pillow hurled at her direction. Startled, she turned towards Luke who was hiding under his blankets. Her sweet boy, her darling boy was hiding himself.

She sat at the edge of the bed, patting what she suspected was Lucerys' head, considering the bump on the blankets. A little sniffle was heard, but Lucerys shook his head and dug his head further into the bed. Finally, after a moment of silence, her precious son poked his head out of the blankets. Lucerys' hair was messier than ever, with red eyes and flushed cheeks.

"My sweet boy." She murmured, pulling him into an embrace. She kissed his cheek, "Your father will be fine. He shall come visit us eventually."

Lucerys shook his head, burying his head into her shoulder. "The last time someone said that, they died."

Rhaenyra flinched. Harwin's death was still hard on her. Her beloved had died but flames. Perhaps Harrenhall was truly cursed as the people have said. She shouldn't have let him go, but it would be suspicious of her to cling on to Harwin for longer than expected.

"You needn't worry my dear. Your father is stronger than that, and Qarl will surely protect him. If not, then I will give you the honors of hitting your father when he comes to visit." Her son giggled at her offer, making her smile at his tear stained face.she caressed his wet cheek, wiping the remaining tears and kissing his forehead.

"Now, wipe your tears away and go play with your cousins. I'm sure that Jace is with them." 

"Jace is with Joffrey…" he whispered, before hopping out of bed and rushing out the door. Rhaenyra found it peculiar that Lucerys knew exactly where his brothers were. It was quite cute in her opinion, unable to hide her smile as she exited the room.

She walked through the halls and towards where Joffrey's room would be. It seemed as though Lucerys had ran as fast as he could, as she did not see him in her path. However, she found herself face to face with her dearest uncle. A smirk on his face, hand on his hip as he tilted his head.

Daemon looked rather satisfied,"So our plan was never needed after all." He chuckled, infinitely joyous. A hunger blazed in his eyes and Rhaenyra could only smile.

"It seems so."

"What of binding our blood, niece?"

Rhaenyra shuddered, smiling to herself as she took a step towards her uncle. She pressed a light kiss against his cheek, eyeing his expressions. Daemon looked even more satisfied as he was, her uncle wrapping an arm around her waist.

"For a little while, kepus . We must not be hasty now that Laenor is free of his duties. A moon or so must pass before we wed." she whispered, glancing around to make sure no one else was around them.

Daemon hummed, kissing her cheek and smiled. "I look forward to it."

Neither had noticed a pair of blazing eyes watching them, annoyed and frustrated by Daemon holding her.

When she married Daemon a moon after the end of her marriage with Laenor, they had done it the Valyrian way. She was dressed in red and gold as they performed what must be done. However, she had never expected the loathing looks of her sons. She was quite hesitant to marry Daemon after that, looking at them with a plea for understanding.

Her boys had practically lost both of their fathers and she was marrying a man they barely knew.

Jace in particular, looked distrustful of Daemon. Her eldest respected and admired the man but that clearly didn't mean he wanted him as a father. Jace had gone out of his way to take the wailing Joffrey from the nursemaids when his little brother cried when she told him of her coming marriage. At the very least, he was docile.

On the other hand, Lucerys had looked outright threatened by Daemon. He was hostile to her uncle, not sparing him the time of day and doing his best to take her attention away from him. Her second born looked ready to kill Daemon in his sleep and didn't seem to have an ounce of remorse for it.

Thankfully, they were kind to the twins and bonded well with them. Although Lucerys wasn't quite social and was cooped up in the library of driftmark.

They had moved to Dragonstone eventually. Rhaenys had pleaded to have at least one of her grandchildren with her, to which Lucerys hugged his grandmother and told her that Baela would be good for her. Rhaenys had taken a great liking to Lucerys. She has heard her darling son comparing their hair color and stating that he preferred the black over the silvery blonde of Targaryen. Rhaenys clearly loved that about him and often took to patting his head.

Her sons had been rather quiet and docile lately. Often times she saw Jace and Luke whispering to each other in library. They had drowned themselves in their studies and even started to take their swordsmanship training seriously. It was a little extreme considering Lucerys looked ready to stab anyone who came near him and Jace was prepared to kill anyone who came near his brother.

Daemon had stated that both boys were great warriors, although a bit intense. He praised his stepsons in their studies and training, even cackling when he found Joffrey being near similar to his brothers.

Although, one day, Jacaerys had come to her with a little suggestion.

"Mother… perhaps you should write a letter to Queen Alicent." Her eldest said to her when he was studying Valyrian.

Rhaenyra had never thought of writing to Alicent. There was too much bad blood between them now for her to actually spare her former friend a proper thought. She resented Alicent for many things, including the fact she wished for Lucerys' eye on the night of Laena's funeral.

"Why ever should I do that?"

Jace shrugged, "We're family. We shouldn't be fighting one another… Grandsire did say that the only ones who can destroy us is ourselves."

Rhaenyra sighed, finding it ridiculous. But she contemplated on the words of her darling son she found herself with pen and parchment, writing the familiar letters that spelled Alicent's name. She smiled sadly to herself as she wrote. Over and over again did she write until she had wasted so much paper. In the end, she had sent at least one of the many letters to her former friend and hoped it would not be seen as a threat. 

Her sons were absolutely brilliant.

However, her sons had their fears.

Jacaerys would freeze when he was too close to a fire, ironic for a Targaryen, but it was a considerably reasonable fear. Lucerys flinched with every storm that came and would hide in his room until it ended. Then there was Joffrey, who could only last so long in the air, fearing great heights.

"Joff, you don't have to." She once heard a conversation between her sons.

"But I— someone has to fly with Tyraxes." Joffrey had murmured, shaking as he held on to Lucerys.

"It's fine if you can't handle heights. Jace and I will fly with Tyraxes, we'll make sure he is fine." 

"No! How can I be a Targaryen if I can't even fly with my dragon? It's ridiculous!"

Jace sighed, "I fear the flames, little brother. Tis not a bad thing to fear the skies."

"It'll be fine, Joffrey. When you get older, we shall soar through the clouds together. One day, your fear shan't hinder you." Lucerys murmured and held his brother tight.

Rhaenyra was happy to find her sons caring for one another, but that didn't change the fact that Joffrey trembled at the prospect of flight. Tyraxes had been rather restless with it's rider feeling so scared. Jacaerys and Lucerys had taken Vermax and Arrax and flew through the skies with Tyraxes— Joffrey had stayed on the ground and cried because of it. 

Whenever that happened, Daemon would wrap his arms around her waist and hug her from behind.

"Why do you think your youngest is so frightened of heights?"

"I don't know. I don't even know why Jacaerys refuses to get to close to fire, why Lucerys despises the storms."

"You have peculiar children."

"Of course… they are mine."

Chapter Text

JOFFREY

”The boy who fell… which one are you talking about? My brothers or me? We fell and we never got back up, but they were met by water and I felt my body shatter.”

Joffrey Velaryon was the third son of Rhaenyra Targaryen. He was the rider of Tyraxes and a boy destined to join the king's guard due to his lack of inheritance. Whilst Lucerys was set to have driftmark, Jacaerys was to become king one day. Alas, both of his brothers had died before him. First he became the heir to Driftmark, then, he became heir to the throne. Joffrey had lost his elder brothers until he lost himself.

When the common folk destroyed the dragon pit and killed the dragons, he had sought to save Tyraxes with his mother's dragon, Syrax. He had never expected for Syrax to not recognize him and throw him off its back. He had fallen— the same way his brothers fell. 

Lucerys in a storm and Jacaerys destroyed by several arrows. Joffrey fell the very same way his brothers did.

So much for strong . 

When he fell, Joffrey felt his own body break as he landed on the cold ground. His vision was blurred by the scarlet of his own blood and then he felt a pair of arms hold him. A familiar warmth that he hadn't been able to feel in more than a decade, and then a little laugh he recognized. Jace, it was Jace , he wanted to cry but he had fallen into a deep slumber. 

When he woke up again, he saw the world… bigger. He was smaller.

To his horror, he has woken up as a baby. The nursemaids caring for him were cooing and fawning at his absolute cuteness and he didn't know how to feel about it. He had listened to them gossip, realizing it was the night of Laena Velaryon's funeral. The night Vhagar was claimed and Aemond had lost an eye to Luke.

Due to him being a child of two namedays, he couldn't really do anything. Events had proceeded according to what he had heard from others in the previous time.

However, two days later, his elder brothers had entered his room with skeptical looks.

"Hit my hand if you understand me." Luke said, offering his hand to him. 

Joffrey was absolutely bewildered, but complied and hit his brother's hand.

"That… Luke, that doesn't count. He's still a baby." 

"What else are we supposed to do? You and I came back from the future where we're already dead, we have to find out if he also came back." 

Joffrey mentally gasped, babbling on and screaming at his brothers. "FALL! FALL! pyu— pyuchu—" he mentally cursed his stupid baby tongue and glared at his startled brothers. Then Luke had the audacity to laugh at him, while Jacaerys was crying in a very dumb manner.

Jace irresponsibly picked him up from his cradle and hugged him tight, sobbing and saying incoherent words.

"I'm sorry baby Joff! I couldn't save you when you fell from Syrax." Jace sobbed as Luke continued to laugh.

Well, Joffrey promptly started hitting Jace, to which Luke laughed even harder. His stupid brothers had gone and done something even stupider. But he loved his idiotic brothers regardless, babbling on as Jace set him back on the crib. He was on his feet, trying to speak to his brothers.

Luke had thankfully calmed down now, but to his chagrin, he started poking his cheek.

"So all three of us died falling. How cruel." Luke grinned as if it were the funniest joke in existence. "You can't do much yet with your age. I suppose we'll have you deal with Daeron while we handle Aegon and Aemond. Hm… Daeron's only three years older than you, so he won't be much of a problem." 

"He's a child!"

"He's our brother. He can handle it."

Joffrey rightfully agreed with Luke, nodding determinedly. He'd grow to be bigger than his brothers one day to prove to them he was capable. Well, to Jace, at least. Luke was already believing him to be competent.

"But still—" 

"Don't worry… Joff has the advantage of being physically a child when we grow to be young men. People would think him stupid and too naive, an advantage when it comes to collecting information or spreading information." Lucerys grinned, patting Joffrey's head. "You'd do that for us, right little brother?"

This… wasn't the same Luke he knew. From his memories, Luke was a kind and sweet brother. It was one of the reasons why their mother constantly called him Sweet boy , yet this version of his brother seemed crueler. He blamed his death. All of them had died and clearly they had been affected by it.

He gulped, nodding as Luke hummed in satisfaction. Jace looked worried, pursing his lips as he had Luke pull away from him.

"Don't listen to him, Joff. You're still a baby… enjoy your childhood, at the very least." 

"Jace, he's died as well… by our mother's dragon of all things." Luke scoffed, "He's not gonna be some innocent boy after that."

Jace glared at Luke, before frowning at him. Their second-born did not lie. Death had changed them and they were not innocent boys, as Lucerys said. Death was not always kind.

"You are the future king, Jacaerys." Luke snapped, "You cannot be blinded by the mere concept of hope. You cannot always expect the good of everything. There is darkness in becoming king, especially with us Targaryens."

Joffrey agreed with that fact far too well.

Joffrey was still two when he found out that Laenor would be leaving again. Although he was but a babe, he was mentally older. When his beloved father had held him before boarding the ship, Joffrey had stressed his lungs and vocal cords by screaming until the dragons could hear him. He clutched at Laenor, practically begging him not to go— although it was just desperate babbling.

He would only calm down when Jace took him in his arms and whispered comforting words. Luke had an expression of calm and tired, quietly allowing their father to leave.

Joffrey never stopped crying that day, only comforted by the presence of his brothers who cried with him. Although Luke was trying his best not to, the second-born of the three had thrown a chair out of the window when he couldn't hold it in.

The one thing that stopped his tears was Luke reading him stories in High Valyrian. Although he could not completely understand it, Luke had promised him lessons in the near future.

When their mother married Daemon, he had shamelessly gone on a hour and a half long tantrum that included him throwing his toys around the room. Again, it was only his brothers who could calm him down. Well, Jace was burdened with the responsibility of calming him and Luke, considering how Luke had once again throw a chair out of the window. 

Daemon genuinely just felt like a threat to them.

Joffrey was five when his mother decided to take him flying on Syrax. He had promptly screamed when she made him face the golden dragon. He ran to his room, locked the doors and hid under his bed.

His memories of Syrax were not great. The dragon had been the cause of his death, the one who threw him off her back and had him drop to his death. It was hard to forget the feeling of his bones breaking on impact; a pain so excruciating that it haunted him at night. His entire body had practically shattered due to his own recklessness and Syrax's disobedience.

He heard someone slam their fists against the door, shaking his head as he muffled out Jace's voice. He cried, still hiding under the bed as he held his head and tried to forget the pain of the fall. It was too painful, the phantom pain refusing to leave him as he curled in himself.

He heard something move minutes later. Something had been opened and he was sure it wasn't the door. Wind entered the room, as Joffrey glanced from under the bed to see a pair of boots land on his floor. They weren't big enough to be adults but neither were they too small. Still, he felt crippling fear devour him as he trembled from under the bed.

There was pressure on his bed, the person clearly sitting.

"Joffrey, come out."

Joffrey blinked as he heard Luke's low voice. His breath hitched, carefully crawling out of the bed and poking his head out. Luke was sitting over his blankets, giving him a blank look.

"Come here." Joffrey complied to his brother's demands, sinking into his arms. Luke felt warm yet at the same time, there was an eerie cold to his brother's skin.

"You fell from Syrax. You're scared of her now." He concluded, caressing Joffrey's hair. "The dragon or the sky?"

Joffrey was rather confused by the question, however he found himself understanding. He shook his head, burying his face into Luke's chest. Whilst Joffrey was a mere age of five, Lucerys was already ten and two. His elder brother was also more mature than him in terms of mental age.

"Both… It's hard."

"What's hard?"

"Forgetting. I can still feel how much it hurts, falling and breaking every single bone in my body." He sobbed.

Luke hummed again, "Jace was pierced by dozens of dozens of arrows. He fell to the sea, but he would have been long dead before he hit the water." Joffrey flinched, but Luke still treated him kindly. But his heart broke seeing the dark look on his face, "Vhagar bit a piece of my body and I was hurled into the sea during a storm."

Joffrey hiccuped. His brothers had as much experience as he did. The tears would not stop as he shook his head, hugging his brother tight as he tried to let it all go. But he couldn't.

He couldn't forget the sound of his own bones cracking. He couldn't forget the feeling of his blood going up his throat and spilling from his lips. He couldn't forget how the blood had gotten into his eyes and all he saw was red. He couldn't forget how hot his blood was.

He had died and he couldn't forget it.

"You cannot forget your death. One day you will die again, but let us pray that is peaceful. You will heal, your mind will heal, and one day you will accept the pain and turn it into strength. It is not something to be ashamed of." Luke explained, bringing Joffrey's face into his hands.

"None of us will forget the pain, but we must accept it. We have survived and we were given a second chance. We shan't dwell upon the pain and stray from our goal. We must live. Joffrey, understand that our survival is a priority."

"The dragon… the dragons!" He cried. He wouldn't go anywhere near the dragons. Fear had dominated him.

How pathetic.

"You'll grow to love Tyraxes without the fear of heights. They are part of us, regardless of what we have gone through, those dragons are part of our blood. You must understand that Joffrey." He whispered, pressing their foreheads together as Joffrey sniffled and rubbed his poor eyes.

He stared into dark pools within Lucerys' eyes, flinching when he saw the flash of red taint the black of them. All three of them had near black hair and black eyes, but Luke's seemed to be turning redder and redder by the day. He wondered whether his eyes were different or not. He was scared to find out, gliding a finger over his eyelid.

"Now go. Tell mother you were intimidated." Luke whispered, placing him on his feet and fixing his wrinkled clothes. "I will help fix your little fear of dragons. But your fear of the skies must be mended by you. Quickly, mother has been distressed."

Joffrey nervously left the room, hand tightly gripping Luke's as he was lead towards their mother. Rhaenyra was sat on a chair, agitated and her head in her hands. Daemon was comforting her, while Jace was quietly discussing the situation with Rhaena.

"I found Joffrey."

Rhaenyra shot up to her feet, hurrying towards her youngest son and taking his face into her hands. She cooed, quietly apologizing as she embraced him, lifting him from the floor and slowly swaying him, as if trying to make him sleep. But he simply buried his head into her shoulder and whispered quiet apologies. He excused himself by saying Syrax looked scary, telling him that he was scared after remembering Vhagar.

His mother was easily deceived. Luke and Jace had shared knowing looks, before comforting their mother and telling them that Syrax may just be too intimidating for little Joffrey. 

He felt pathetic.

"My dearest." His mother whispered and kissed his forehead.

Chapter Text

DAEMON

“One of the is definitely my son in blood. I refuse to believe that their blood-thirst comes from their father… but maybe they inherited it from their mother. Fire in their blood and fire it is what they crave.”

Left. Right. Left. Right. Right. Left.

Parry, thrust, dodge, parry, thrust, dodge.

Daemon watched as Rhaenyra's first and second born sparred with dull blades. Both displayed precision that he would never have expected from supposedly coddled princes. The two were ten and five, and ten and three respectively. They were exceptional swordsmen, always trying to figure out better ways to refine their skills and talent.

Jacaerys had a more elegant and graceful way of fighting. It was well refined, joined by perfect footing that seemed as if he were gliding on the ground. His movements were light and swift, preferring to retaliate rather than begin a fight. His movements were well calculated, having enough time to think of what followed his previous actions.

Lucerys was the near opposite. The boy was vicious and merciless when it came to the blade. His movements were heavy, skilled and swift, but heavy in a way that told Daemon he was ready to kill. There was clear bloodlust in his dark eyes that was usually soothed by one of his full-blooded brothers. Like his brother, his actions were carefully calculated. And unlike his brother, Lucerys liked to start fights.

It made Daemon laugh at how similar the two were to himself and Viserys. Rhaenyra had sighed exasperatedly when she discovered such similarities. She had prayed to the gods that little Joffrey would be nothing like his brothers, but the boy had picked up a crossbow once and had fallen in love with it.

So here he was, overseeing a training session between the two princes. Lucerys was relentlessly attacking, not allowing his brother to retaliate. However, Jacaerys was smart and found a little opening when Lucerys had thrusted his sword forward. Taking a great risk, Jace swung his sword towards Lucerys' side and the younger of the two instinctively jumped back. That was a mistake—an opening. Jace lunged forward.

Daemon thought Jacaerys would win, but Lucerys had ducked swiped his brothers feet. The elder brother had fallen on his chest and Lucerys was quick to point his blade at his brothers nape.

"Six to four. I win this month." Lucerys panted, grinning smugly.

"Damnit!" 

Daemon had noticed their little schedule. Every three days or so, the two would spar and would count their winnings. For every month, ten fights would occur and whoever had the most wins seemed to gain a prize. What the prize was, he was still investigating.

"When Joff turns ten, we have to adjust our schedule for him." 

"How is us going against Joffrey fair? You'd be ten and seven, and I, twenty and one."

"Well then, we should just look for a playmate for him." 

Daemon shook his head, incredulous to hear that Lucerys was suggesting they subject a poor young lord to the hands of Joffrey. Although Joffrey was ever so scarred of Syrax, the little boy was as ruthless as his brothers.

"You two, that's enough for today."

Jacaerys narrowed his eyes at him, whilst Lucerys clicked his tongue and rested the blade upon his shoulder. His stepsons tolerated him, but they were protective of their mother. The three—yes, apparently also Joffrey— did not particularly trust him. Of course, the elder two had told him they were annoyed of the marriage a month after Laena's death while little Joffrey wanted Laenor back.

They didn't hate him, but they were threatened by him.

"Come now, little dragons. Your mother and grandmother await you." After mentioning Rhaenys, Lucerys was quick to discard his sword and run past him. On the other hand, Jacaerys sighed and places both sword in their proper place. After that, the eldest prince did not even spare Daemon another look. 

Daemon sighed. It was not arrogance that caused the boys to treat him as such. They were more protective of their mother than Daemon had expected. He supposed that he should have asked for their approval rather than Viserys, considering the three boys looked ready to kill him at any moment. Thankfully, they adored his daughters and treated them well.

They inherited their mothers insolence as well. 

He arrived to the hall where Joffrey was being hugged by Rhaenys and Corlys, and soon Jacaerys and Lucerys has joined them. Pure absolute joy were reflected upon the three boys eyes, and his gaze turned towards his wife.

She held little Aegon the III in her arms, a babe only 3 moons old. Joffrey had already claimed the boy and would promptly hiss at anyone who went too close to their youngest brother.

"Grandsire, Grandmother. I hope you are doing well, father did not say much in his letter about your well-being." Jacaerys smiled, bowing his head to the two.

"Oh goodness, let me guess…" Rhaenys chuckled, "My darling son only wrote of his adventures in Essos and all the gifts he would be coming with. Poor Qarl looked ready to cry when he arrived with what I think is a carriage of presents." 

Lucerys snickered, "Father is extravagant. Though I am absolutely sure that precious Joff is going to get another tunic in his collection. I won't be surprised that father would have someone paint him again."

Joffrey promptly took one of Aegon's toys and chucked it at his brothers. Daemon sighed, impressed as he watched Lucerys' effortlessly catch the toy.

"I look better than you!" Joffrey yelled, sticking his tongue out.

"Until you become taller than me, that is highly debatable." Lucerys argued back, smirking as he crossed his arms and returned his attention to Rhaenys. "Also, Marris Baratheon sent me a raven about Cassandra's coming of age and little Ellyn's debutante."

Rhaenys smiled, "You have become well acquinted with the Baratheons."

Lucerys shrugged, "My hair looks more Baratheon than Arryn. Joff is Lady Jeyne's favorite."

"I thought I was her favorite." Jacaerys murmured, mildly offended.

"Course you are." Lucerys rolled his eyes, sarcasm trickling from his voice as he snickered at his brother. Jace looked ready to punch him. 

Over the years, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey had gone and befriended their relatives. Beginning with the Arryns, they had been quickly accepted by them after they stated that Luke and Joffrey were like male versions of Aemma. Jace actually had a genuine resemblence to Aemma Arryn's father, Rodrik Arryn.

The Baratheons were also a surprising addition to their group of supporters. Borros Baratheon and his lady wife had accepted the three boys as their kin. Apparently, their hair was clearly inherited from Jocelyn. Although the Arryns had said Luke resembled Aemma, he also looked similar to Jocelyn. The two families had concluded that Lucerys was simply a perfect combination of their family.

Ever since then, the rumors of their legitimacy had watered down. He hadn't heard anyone call them bastards in almost two years.

"Boys, no fighting. Your little brother is about to take his nap, so do keep quiet." Rhaenyra hushed them, glaring at the two and rocking Aegon on the younger.

"Why did you have to name him Aegon?" Joffrey asked, frowning as he poked their brothers cheek.

"Why not?"

"Mother, we refer to him as Egg , as to not confuse him with our uncle." Lucerys deadpanned, once again having something hurled at him. Daemon sighed as he watch Lucerys catch said object.

"What as was I to name him? I thought Aegon would be befitting for him, he feels like one after all." She whispered, kissing little Aegon's (apparently also now known as Egg ) forehead. 

"Daemian? Aerys? Baelon?" Lucerys suggested, pausing before he clicked his tongue. "Rhaegar." He said the name with some kind of contempt, as if it were venom in his tongue. Daemon found it odd, however, he knew he wouldn't get anything out of his stepson.

"Hm… maybe you should have suggested such when the little one was born. We can no longer change his name." Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, but she fondlt added, "You can help name the next one."

"Visenya." All three dark haired boy said, looking extremely determined as they looked at their mother. Three brothers clearly wanted a sister, a half-sister, but she would still come from the same womb as them.

Rhaenyra chuckles, beckoning her sons to approach her. She planted kisses upon their cheeks, quietly promising a daughter as she had also desires.

Corlys chuckled, "Let us pray for another granddaughter. But for now, we must discuss the coming preparations for your departure. Are you two sure about your decisions?"

Lucerys and Jacaerys were quick to discard their mischievous smiles, replacing them with stern expressions as they stood straighter. They met eyes, nodding before turning to their grandsire and beginning the discussion.

The stepstones were still to be defenses from the triarchy.

"The rising resurgence of the triarchy will be hard to deal with. First and foremost, we have to deprive them of their supporters." Jacaerys explained, glancing towards Lucerys.

"I can fly to Dorne." The younger of the two declares, "The Martell's are currently the strongest supporters of the Triarchy. High chances of them supporting the Triarchy due to the lack of alliances between our families for a time. If I do succeed in convincing them to stop sponsoring the triarchy well…" 

"Vermax and I will join Father in the stepstones whilst Luke speaks to the Martells. At the moment, the triarchy does not seem to be fearsome, but if we allow them to grow any further, we'll be the ones at a disadvantage." Jacaerys was the one to leas them into the war room. The map was already placed upon the table, as Lucerys stood opposite to his brother.

"This task is dangerous. Are you sure you can handle it?" Rhaenyra asked. Aegon and Joffrey were taken by nursemaids, thus the six of them were alone. " Tresy, you are not required—"

"Regardless of whether we are required or not, it is out duty." Jacaerys declares. "I am your heir, muña . I cannot just stand idly and ignore this issue."

Rhaenyra pursed her lips, proud she was, but worry consumed her.

"Jacaerys has a point. I am heir to driftmark. It matters not of what the people whisper of our blood," they flinched, "I am the son of Ser Laenor Velaryon and Rhaenyra Targaryen. Tis our duty— to defend what is ours."

He liked the sound of that. Among the first three children of Rhaenyra, Lucerys was theost like him. From his mere posture and his bloodthirst, Lucerys seemed to be his own son. Although he did feel a bit more like Rhaenyra, the boy was still similar to him.

"Still…" his wife was quick to approach her second born, kissing his cheek and gazing into dark hues. Lucerys had garnered a bit more favor from his mother compared to his siblings. "Keep safe, Zaldrītsos . I understand that you wish to fight for our— your honor, but I do not want you or your brother's getting hurt."

"I will be safe, Muña . Jacaerys and I are your son's. Do not doubt us."

"I… Forgive your mother. It pains me to think of my precious sons hurt."

The vulnerability Rhaenyra had was often reserved for her children. Daemon watched as Lucerys placed hand over his mother's arms, in a position that would allow him to easily embrace her.

Jace, Luke, and Joffrey were exceptionally possessive of their mother. It had been four years since he married Rhaenyra, but that wasn't enough time for the boys to like him. In all honesty, the three would subtly threaten him with flowery words that could be vaguely interpreted as insults. He couldn't forget how Joffrey had blatantly wished Aegon didn't look like him since his mother was prettier.

They felt like vultures, patiently waiting for him to show any sign of weakness before they would strike and devour him whole. He shuddered to think of such, but them again there were three of them. Three vultures circling you were bad omens.

"Should I be concerned for your training regimen?" Daemon jested, tilting his head at the two.

Jacaerys sighed, shaking his head and giving Lucerys a withering look. However, the younger of the two simply smirked.

"Don't worry stepfather ," even Joffrey called him that. "You don't need to worry your old bones. You're time at the stepstones had passed, it's our turn."

Daemon didn't miss the insult.

Wretched boys, but I love them anyways.

Chapter Text

JACAERYS

“Loyalty and Honor are fickle things. Sometimes, to be loyal, you must forsake your honor. Other times, to be honorable, you cost another’s loyalty. But you my dear wold, are loyal and honorable… I will regret corrupting you.”

Jace was ten and three when he got on Vermax and flew off to the North. His dragon was big enough for him to ride on, but small enough for them to hide. Vermax landed on the snowy patch in a forest, receiving orders from Jace to stay put and wait for him.

He had a wolf to meet.

The next year neared, and thus winter came.

Jace wrapped his coat tighter, exhaling into his gloves hands. The lands of the north were colder than  the rest when it came to winter. The entire place was white, and Winterfell was no better.

The cold was a clear struggle— even for the northern men. Jace liked to think of the advantages the people of the north would have with their dragons. He thought of endless heat from their dragons, fires that would last long, as well as harder to kill. He contemplated it, thinking of what other things he should offer to the future lord of Winterfell.

It made him shudder.

Contrary to what he had thought, Lucerys was mildly against an allegiance with the Starks. It was simply odd since Luke had never met Cretan. However, the knowledge that his brother had been forced to wake up in an unknown future and have bad experiences with the Starks somehow explained a bit of it. 

His brother has done his best to discourage any attempts to speak to the Starks. However, Jace was more resilient than Luke expected. Thus he had taken Vermax and ran off to the North, planning to solidify Cregan's fate as Lord of Winterfell.

He was easy to conceal amongst the dark haired children of the north. His cloak was not of the expensive and velvety fabric that the nobleman owned. He had found a somewhat… ratty and unkept cloak and made do with it. He was quick to sneak into the furthermost areas of Winterfell, eyes gleaming as he found a boy of mere ten and five carving something.

He wore plain clothes and a cloak that looked a bit dirty. He seemed to be a normal child but Jacaerys knew better than that.

"What are you making?" He asked the boy, crouching in front of him and smiling up at the boy. The strange boy who held a dagger and was busy carving wood looked at him with a surprised look, one that Jace returned with a curious smile.

The boy hesitantly told him, "A sculpture of the wolf— the direwolf."

"Isn't that House Starks symbol?"

"Yes… Who might you be?"

"I'm Jace!" He said, smiling up at the dark haired boy. The boy was taller than him, older than him by a few years. Eyes that were as gray as storms, the boy observed him.

"Cregan."

Jace felt his smile spread further as he tilted his head. I found you, he thought. Satisfaction rolled of his body and all he could think of was how he had won. Although a small success, it was a success regardless. He had found him.

"Cregan Stark… nice to meet you!" Jace said, not caring for the cautious look Cregan gave him. He offered his hand, a sign of goodwill along with a sincere smile that spoke volumes of his delight. "You're ten and five right?"

Cregan nodded, curious of him. Jace could see it in his eyes.

"You're two years older than me! Have you ever seen Direwolves? Are they as big as people have said?" 

"You're not from here, are you?"

"Nope! I'm from the crownlands."

"So far away! What are you doing here? Where are your parents?" Cregan asked, looking worried as he tried to look for Jace's parents. Such a considerate boy— Jace loved that about him. He and Cregan were sworn brothers for a reason.

"Don't worry. My parents are busy so I took to exploring." Jace smiled, up on his feet and dustinf whatever dirt was on his cloak. "Also, is it true that your uncle Bennard is the current Regent? Aren't you old enough to be lord of Winterfell now?" 

Cregan wouldn't become Lord of Winterfell until he was around ten and seven. Jace knew that this was due to his usurper uncle, Bennard. The two boys had such a similarity that they bonded over— by cursing out said uncle's. 

"I— no. I am not of age yet."

"But I heard that the Regent Lord Bennard is rather attached to his position. Would he really hand over your lordship just because you came of age?" Jace asked, staring at Cregan who had gone stiff.

"You're Lord Rickon Starks rightful heir… Is it really okay to let him do as he pleases?" 

Jace would sow the seeds of doubt. He would put Cregan on the throne of Winterfell and have him become the Lord of Winterfell two years earlier. He needed an ally. 

And Luke was right.

He couldn't wait anymore. Cregan needed to grow up.

The stepstones was just as chaotic as he expected. He was mounted on Vermax, eyes watching the soldiers of their family train and care for their weapons. Many were glancing towards him and his dragon, looking rather curious before looking away from his glare. He heard someone snicker beside him, sighing as he glared at Luke who was lazily sat on Arrax.

His brothers dragon seemed to grow faster than expected, already the same size as Vermax. The pearlescent hues of it's scales shined under the sunlight, golden eyes that watched everyone— as if they were food. With the ruthlessness of Lucerys, Arrax had inherited his penchant for violence.

His brother has been determined to speak with the Martells, similar to how Jace had gone to Winterell for the Starks. He was quite satisfied, it had been a year and a half since Cregan became Lord of Winterfell. They had kept correspondence after their first meeting. Cregan, of course, had discovered he was Prince Jacaerys Velaryon at some point. Jace was more than thankful of the fact that Cregan was still treating him like a friend rather than superior.

He sighed to himself, a hand placed over the hilt of his sword as he listened to Lucerys hum. The manic glint in his brothers eyes could be hardly seen— if it were not for the fact that Jace had seen it a multitude of times.

"Sunspear isn't too far. I'll be back in a day or two, so don't worry your pretty little head brother." Luke grinned, clenching and unclenching Arrax's reigns. "They'll listen to me."

"The Martells are snakes, they are scorpions. What makes you think they will listen?"

Luke grins, "Snakes and Scorpions they may be, but we are Dragons. Dragons that have died and brought back to life." There was a cruel lilt in his voice, pain leaking into his tone before he resumed his viciousness. "They will listen to me. As the Starks suit you, the Martells suit me."

Without another word, Lucerys ordered for Arrax to fly. He watched as white wings flapped and the dragon took to the skies. Arrax roared, piercing through the clouds and perfectly blending into the canvas of the heavens.

"He seems rather excited."

Jace turned towards Ser Laenor. Though the man was not his biological father, he was his still his father. Although the three of them had resented their parents due to their foolishness of faking his death (by burning a bloody corpse like how Harwin died too), they loved their parents dearly.

"It's that or we sick him on the triarchy at the very start. It's better for him to learn about diplomacy rather than be addicted to war." He explains, shaking his head.

Lucerys was a wild card, almost befitting of the title Rogue Prince , but Luke would have killed him for that. Learning about patience and other ways of peace would be beneficial for them, especially Jace who was eager to think of the possibilities of a calmer version of Lucerys.

"I never expected your brother to be fond of war." 

"He's not. He's paranoid and partially insane. What he has is not desire for war, rather… he's cautious of what enemies our family has made. Lucerys has his reasons for war, but he does not love it."

"You've gotten quite wise, Tresy ." Laenor chuckled, caressing Seasmoke. "Is it really right to send him for negotiations rather than yourself? I must confess, I am rather concerned by the choices of my father and your mother." 

"Mother was not happy with our decision, but Luke inherited her stubbornness and insolence. He wasn't going to change his mind, not when he had drowned himself in books of house Martell."

Jacaerys split his attention from his father to their fleet. He grimaced, unable to forget how he had died. Two out of three of their deaths ended with them drowning in the water. He was a little uncomfortable with the thought of battle over the ocean. He had to endure the discomfort—Luke would do the same after all.

War was something he was now familiar with. He knew that there would be casualties and the chances of him getting hurt. He had to do something about it, but sometimes… men such as himself were helpless to the desires of chaos and death. A chuckle escaped his lips, unable to hide the painful amusement he had. Vhagar, the god of war. How fitting. 

Unmounting Vermax, his feet met the ground as he took a step forward towards the training soldiers. Some of them had sloppy footwork that made him scowl, shaking his head before he proceeded to the tent where his grandsire was planning what to do next. To his annoyance, Vaemond was with him.

"Grandsire." He quietly greeted, not acknowledging the man's brother. He stepped towards Corlys, stopping and proceeding with a little bow of respect. "Lucerys has departed for Sunspear. I estimate he will be returning in two days."

"Do not expect so much from your brother, Jacaerys." Corlys sighed as if he had said something wrong. "Lucerys is but ten and three. Your little brother will not succeed in such short time."

That irked him. His brother? Unable to convince someone? Such absurdity did not exist.

"He is but a boy. His delusional hope will not let him succeed."

Jace felt his own blood boil, fire coursing through his veins as his fingers twitched for his sword. But Jace was supposed to be the calm one. He was supposed to be responsible brother who could control his temper and help utilize Luke's destructive nature. He needed to be calm— or else the battlefield would have two bloodthirsty dragons.

"It's not my expectations grandsire," he purposefully ignored Vaemond, "Lucerys will return in less than two days. If not, then he might as well be drunk in Dorne." He clicked his tongue, turning on his heel and marching away from the tent.

His brother was no fool. All three of them weren't fools.

They needed each other to properly function, to properly think— to stay sane in a world where they knew of what was to come if not for change. If one went insane, the other two would be their anchor. If one sought out bloodshed, the other two would be voices of reason. If one was devoured by sorrow and fear, the other two would bring forth light or drown in darkness with them. If all three descended into madness, then at the very least, they would still have each other.

Jacaerys knew what it felt like to live in a world without his brothers. Lucerys, for a time, did not. Lucerys had been born second, the middle child between him and Joffrey. Lucerys had died first. He had never experienced a world without his brothers until he had woken into the future he refused to tell his elder brother.

Just like Jace, the time without each other had driven Lucerys mad.

He pursed his lips, shaking his head before taking hold of his sword. He controlled his breathing, trying to master his own movements. Air entered his lungs as he adjusted his footing, closing his eyes. The sound of clashing, the sound of people , the sound of waves crashed into his ears and through his mind.

Calm.

Disciplined.

Reasonable.

The sound of cutting pierced through the air as a thud was heard. A small breath exited his lips and he opened his eyes to the headless straw man that he had assaulted. He glanced to the side, seeing the awed and frightened looks of soldiers who had been hitting the straw dummies over and over again, yet couldn't even slice through them.

"Jace… gīda ilagon ." He heard Ser Laenor murmured. Calm down, he says.

Jace was the epitome of calm and controlled. What he had done was on purpose, of his own volition. This wasn't anger taking over him, it was control being asserted into himself.

Time and time again he had told himself that it was his mind that controlled him, not his emotions. He needed to make sure of that. Discipline was key to being a good monarch, to being his mother's bloody heir.

"I am… calm."

He was calm… that's what made it so dangerous.

"Prince, huh…"

Jace hummed as he took a bite of the sandwich Cregan had given him. He glanced at the now lord of Winterfell, unable to hide his own smile. Two moons had passed since Bennard Stark was forced out of his seat as Regent and Cregan was finally given his rightful title. Although the family was left tense, the vassals and people of the Starks rejoiced to have Rickon's son become their lord.

Jace had just turned ten and four whilst Cregan was ten and six. The older boy was taller than him but Jace didn't doubt he'd catch up in no time. They were their mothers sons, but they were also their father's.

"Prince… Do you hate me for lying?"

"No… A bit upset, but I don't hate you." Cregan sighed, deadpanning at him before ruffling his hair. "Forgive me for my insolence, your highness." The Lord of Winterfell drawls, amused at the annoyed expression Jace had.

"I could have you executed."

"But would you?"

Jace considered, before shaking his head and laughing. "Quite unfortunately, no. You are my best friend, Cregan. You are an ally that cannot be replaced. So no… Executing you would be insanity."

Cregan chuckles, "Is that so? How kind of you, my prince." He smirked, tilting his head as he looked at Jacaerys with a curious face. A smile spread across his expression, "Might I request to see your magnificent dragon? Think of it as a little exchange for me introducing you to my direwolves."

Jace hummed, nodded as he took Cregan's hand and ran into the forest. He couldn't stop himself from grinning. Nothing much had changed since the revelation of his status. Cregan was still his best friend and didn't judge him for who he was. No such words of "Bastard" were uttered from Cregan's lips. He had already known that the wolf wouldn't say such things, but he had been cautious. This world was different.

He laughed, loud and happy as he saw the awed look Cregan had at the sight of Vermax lying on the snow. His dragon poked its head out of the snow, huffing in their direction before lying back on the snow. Vermax would like Cregan, he knew it.

Chapter Text

LUCERYS

“I never thought I’d be dancing with snakes, but I find that it is the most delightfully dangerous thing us mortals can do.”

Dorne had yet to join the "seven kingdoms" as the people say. Although there were only six under the rule of his family— since Dorne wouldn't join all of Westeros til two generations or so later. Lucerys had read many history books in his time as a ghost and he discovered that his younger Viserys' grandson had been the cause of the union between Martell and Targaryen. That is, until the Blackfyre Rebellion.

Lucerys often reminisced on that name, smiling maliciously to himself.

Oberyn Martell had eight bastard daughters known as the Sand Snakes. Regardless of their status as bastards, they were treated well by the prince of Dorne of their time, Doran. Oberyn had very loving and affectionate relationships with his daughters, causing them to be fiercely loyal to their family. However, that was a double-edged sword.

The Sand Snakes were loyal to house Martell through their shared father. When Oberyn died, the eight bastard daughters had gone on a riot to avenge their father. Lucerys didn't doubt— that had their mother died before them, all three bastards of Rhaenyra Targaryen would have done the exact same. 

They were vicious. They were cruel. The Sand Snakes and Ellaria Sand were loyal to Oberyn, his death sealed the fate of the remaining members of House Martell. Quite unfortunately, it includes Myrcella Baratheon. Lucerys had been reminded of Helaena whenever he looked at the girl.

In two-hundred years or so, house Martell would be descended from his family, from his mother. Lucerys could only conclude that the reason why the Martell's couldn't see him was due to the blood dwindling in their veins. Had the Martell's kept a few more Targaryens in their family, perhaps Lucerys could have been great friends with the Sand Snakes. He could have only hope. Yet he knew he would have been biased in a way.

Their liberation and their control over themselves were what Lucerys desired most. Control, freedom. House Martell had achieved such by resisting his ancestors' attempts at making them bend the knee. Lucerys respected them. At the same time, he resented them. Dorne was dangerous, a place where cruelty often reigned and Lucerys had nearly vomited when he heard of what happened to Rhaenyra Targaryen, the wife of Aegon the Conqueror.

He thanked the gods that he wasn't stupid enough to come unannounced. He carefully ordered Arrax to land somewhere that wouldn't damage anything during take off. He sighed in relief as his dragon lay down on the sands.

Dark eyes land upon the sandy looking walls of Sunspear. As Dragonstone looked cold, Sunspear looked scorching in his eyes. His breath hitched as he marveled at the structure, blinking as he heard footsteps approaching him. His gaze shifted from the building towards guards that were cautiously standing at a distance.

He nodded, bowing slightly out of respect. These people were mostly influenced by the Rhoynar rather than the First men and Andals. The Targaryens were of Valyria, although they followed the seven now due to such.

Although the Martells were said to be bloodthirsty, hot-blooded, and even lacking in sexual restraint, Lucerys knew those were lies. The dornishmen were human, they were human like the rest of them. Though Targaryens are said to be closer to the gods, Lucerys knew— among his family, he and his brothers were closer to men.

As he was led by the guards, he could faintly pick up what they were whispering about. The accents of the Dornishmen were quite prominent, but he could decipher what they said no matter how fast they spoke.

"The boy is more respectful than I thought." One of the guards whispered.

"Better than the rest of those dragons, I say. Maybe this one has enough brains to not try and colonize us." The other scoffed, shaking their head before heading on.

Lucerys smiled, keeping his head down as his cloak shielded him from the glare of the sun. He glanced back towards Arrax, who was already sunbathing.

Walking on the sand was a nuisance. Sand was already in his boots but he would have to endure. Oh how he missed being dead, being a ghost. There were so little inconveniences in his life that he had been content. He needn't eat, sleep, or even go to the potty. He was free of any issue regarding his body, even the pain of growth spurts.

With a shaky breath, Lucerys closed his eyes as he knew he was going to be presented to the current rulers of Dorne. He knew he had been guided into the tower of the son. The moment those double doors opened that he would need to keep himself composed. He took a few steps, a good distance from the seat before him— he had bowed.

He heard someone gasp.

"Lucerys Velaryon, son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, heir to the iron throne… your majesties." He says, keeping his head down before slowly raising his head. 

Before him was Prince (it could have been king) Qoren Martell and his wife in their seats. Standing beside them were their three children: Aliandra, Coryanne, and Qyle.

Aliandra looked to be about Jace's age, two years or so older than him. Qyle was at least a year younger than him, and Coryanne was a bit older than Joffrey. All of them had dark hair and skin that made them seem like gods among men. Though the Targaryens had unearthly beauty, the Martells showed a kind of beauty that made humanity look wonderful.

"Prince Qoren, pardon my intrusion to your home. I do not expect you to welcome a dragon so near." He apologized.

Be polite, be calm. Those words courses through his mind, the same words he had told Daenerys when it came to negotiations. Show your respect. Display yourself as a step below them, but reveal that you are equal. You are not less, you are equal . 

"Thank you for your consideration prince Lucerys. Your initial warning of your arrival came a surprise, but I am pleased to find you so polite and respectful in our company… not many of your family were the same with mine." Prince Qoren confesses but looked disdainfully at Lucerys.

Lucerys pursed his lips, nodding as he offered a friendly smile. They were dragons. They were assertive and commanding— the people of Dorne were the same and that made them natural enemies.

"I must say, I am not like the rest of my family." He explains, keeping his gaze on the ruled of Dorne. "Prince Qoren, if I may be so bold… I came here to negotiate your connection to the Triarchy."

The entire room tensed, as the prince of Dorne straightened on his seat. Princess Aliandra narrowed her eyes at him, seemingly assessing whether he would tantrum or not. But he wouldn't.

"My father, my brother, and soon, myself, will be participating in the battle of the Triarchy's resurgence. My stepfather won the previous war with the triarchy with Ser Laenor." He quietly summarized, earning a nod of understanding from Prince Qoren. "Some say that you still fund the Triarchy. I am here due to my own concerns that I've asserted on my mother. Being the enemies of the Martells will do no one good."

Prince Qoren raised a brow, "Oh? I would have thought you dragons would not wish for such… but then again, your ancestors have made an enemy of my ancestors."

"The sins of my predecessor do not pass on to me. However, I come here to mend the connection of our families… even the smallest bit of alliance will calm my own nerves." Lucerys explains.

Gīda aōla , he thought as he continued on. The Martells were hotheads and they were commanding people. They wouldn't just bend the knee, they wouldn't just submit. Perhaps that's why I like them…

"If the fact you are continuing to assist the triarchy were to return to my grandsire, he would not be pleased. More conflict will arise. If our side of this battle wins, conflict is guaranteed due to the tension of between us."

"Indeed… but what makes you think you will win the fight?"

Lucerys smiles. It seemed angelic but the Martells knew of the viciousness of such a smile. The cruelty of his own confidence, of how damn certain he was. "The triarchy may have fought against Seasmoke, but they've never gone against My Arrax and my brother's Vermax. I will not boast, but I believe myself rather capable… this time around, there are three dragons fighting. If possible, Daemon might return to the stepstones."

He chuckled, "The sea may kill our fire but human flesh still burns." 

A threat. An obvious thread that has the guards place their hands over the handle of their swords.

Qoren glared at him. Lucerys thought himself a fool. He had asserted his own power, he had boasted and expressed his own certainty. He sounded arrogant and cocky. He didn't regret it.

But Qoren laughed, an eerie, dark… laugh 

"Arrogant child!" Qoren yelled, a vicious grin plastered across his face as he stared down at Lucerys. The prince clenched his fist, narrowing his eyes at the man. "You are either brave or stupid for coming here. I had thought you would come beg for help, yet you come here to merely confirm things. If we are still helping the Triarchy, what will you do boy?" 

Lucerys nearly flinched. The situation felt familiar, for one, and he disliked it.

"Then we go to war with them. It doesn't matter if you're helping them or not… I'll go pick up my damn sword and go to battle. I'll burn every single soldier they have and it won't matter if they were just innocent men doing what they are told— I will decimate them and I won't regret it. "

A shudder went through the throne room as Lucerys stood there, not even moving to hold his sword, unlike the Dornish guards. He stared at Prince Qoren who seemed unnerved by his lack of fear.

Lucerys has gone through this before. He had been there when Daenerys took over King's Landing. He had been there, standing on the roof of a building, when Daenerys burned down King's Landing. He had drowned in Drogon's flames, unharmed by the flames. Lucerys had died by his own kin, a monarch who would die soon enough was an issue he could handle.

He wouldn't touch the Martells until they directly attacked, but he wasn't going to sit and do nothing. He would fly back to the stepstones and burn everything down. Often did he wonder what Daenerys felt when she destroyed king's landing and now he had a chance to feel it— destruction and chaos coursing through his blood. 

He wanted to feel the pain of it all.

Lykirī, a voice in his head spoke. Daenerys' voice whispered and he did what was told of him. He calmed down, he felt his heart pound against his chest.

"You insolent—"

"Qoren, enough!" 

Lucerys turned towards the agitated yet stern woman sat beside the prince of Dorne. Her dark hair was ornamented with jewels, dark brown eyes drilling into her husband's head. Dyana Martell forced her husband to sit back down, taking a stand herself as she looked down at him.

Lucerys had always been more intimidated by women. He couldn't help pursing his lips together and resisting the urge to take a step back. Dyana Martell felt more like a threat than her own husband.

"Forgive my husband for his lack of manners, Prince Lucerys." Dyana scoffed, scowling at Qoren who looked severely frustrated. But she continued on, hands placed over one another. "Our business with the Triarchy ended half a decade ago. They were found embezzling our fortune and had planned to betray us then run with the money. So no, we are not funding them… not anymore that is."

"Dyana!" 

"Enough! The boy came here to confirm, not to wage war! You foolish man, be quiet and let the child go." Dyana snapped, glaring at her husband, "He is but a boy sent here to speak to us! Will you really go to war with the Targaryens for such a simple thing?"

Qoren flinched.

No matter how strong their defences were, the Targaryens had more dragons this time. Aegon the Conqueror may have had Balerion, but strength in numbers would need to be taken into account now. The Targaryens were in possession of nine dragons that were capable of battle, one of the nine were here in Dorne.

Arrax was just outside, waiting for any order Lucerys would give him through the bond they had. Lucerys acknowledged this—if they attack, he retaliates. The first to attack would have the blame for any destruction to occur and it was sure as hell not Lucerys.

Dracarys , he thinks and smiles to himself. The thought of burning down Dorne seemed like a satisfying fantasy. These people were their enemies and if done right, possibly the best allies they could have in the future. A long and far future, but it was a possibility. Perhaps he should offer marriage this time, Joffrey was similar in age to Lady Coryanne so it would be sufficient, or perhaps Rhaena and Qyle.

Although Lucerys prefer none of his siblings were shipped of to Dorne for marriage, he knew it was one of the most valuable things in a political agreement. Just as Aemond offered his own hand to the Baratheons, Lucerys would have to wed one of his siblings or even himself to the Martells. If it came to that, he would rather be married to the younger sibling of the Martells heiress.

"Thanks to my husband's mistakes," she spat, glaring at Qoren who squirmed under her gaze. "We lost a few hundred of our soldiers during the battle with your father and stepfather. Little prince, you need not to worry of our involvement with the Triarchy now."

Lucerys merely nodded, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the prince of Dorne. However, Lucerys could only trust the word of the princess so much. Dorne had its autonomy, something Lucerys often wished for himself, and it could be threatening to the rule of his family.

Dorne was the only kingdom of Westeros that did not bend the knee to his ancestors.

"I thank you for your hospitality, Princess Dyana. My purpose here was not to threaten you," Qoren scoffed and Lucerys grit his teeth, "rather, my presence here was to simply confirm the information we were given. Although risky, it would be better to make sure of the Triarchy's connection." 

"Bold of you." Qoren shook his head, clearly assuming his arrogance. "You are arrogant enough to think we would be honest."

Lucerys wanted to punch him.

"Understandable, yes, but it is a risk I am willing to take. Who's to say I would actually believe you?"

Qoren's eye twitched as Dyana grabbed his arm and narrowed her eyes. The princess of Dorne turned to him with a judgemental gaze, before nodding understanding. Dyana hummed, bringing her hands together over her abdomen and hummed.

“Prince Lucerys, I expect that you may be exhausted from the journey. As further negotiations are to continue on, why don’t you rest for now.” Dyana hummed, turning to her children. “Aliandra, won’t you guide the prince to one of our guest rooms?”

The heiress eyed him cautiously, before responding to her mother and approaching him. She went straight to the door and Lucerys bowed before the rulers of Dorne once more then followed their heir.

Aliandra, like most Dornishmen, had dark skin and hair black as the night. But Lucerys found a uniqueness to her eyes; they reminded him of Oberyn’s black ‘viper-like’ eyes. He smiled to himself, chuckling before he followed the future princess.

Unlike the Targaryens, the rulers of Dorne are referred to as Prince and Princess, not King and Queen. Aliandra, Coryanne were simply ladies and their only brother Qyle was but a young lord. It was an interesting take on their own version of Monarchy but Lucerys found it was quite practical.

“Tell me, how is it that the princess Rhaenyra chose to send her second son here…rather than the heir to the throne?” Aliandra asked him, once again looking skeptical and suspicious.

However, Lucerys merely smiles and begins to explain—albeit, vaguely. “Mother did not choose to send me here, it was by my own choice. Jacaerys is busy dealing with our soldiers back at the stepstones, along with my father and grandsire. Brother also wished for me to understand more about diplomacy…”

“You have a penchant for war?”

“I do not love it, but my family think me mad for my fascination with it.”

“Anyone who tolerates war is mad.”

“Quite unfortunate that I am a Targaryen then.”

Aliandra hummed at his reply, narrowing her eyes as she continued to observe him. They were walking side by side now, no longer did the prince walk behind her. Aliandra seemed perfectly fine with it— his goal had been achieved. Lucerys smiles, You are not less, you are equal.  Satisfaction devoured him before he spoke once more as Aliandra began to ask him questions.

“Is your dragon near?” She asked, glancing out the window.

“Yes… Arrax is just out the city walls, sunbathing, I assume. If Dragons could get a tan, then my poor Arrax would have gotten a sunburn.” He joked, pointing towards the patch of white on the dunes that was clearly not sand.

Aliandra awed at the glimpse she had of the dragon, clearing her throat before offering him a charming smile. Snake… just like her descendants, he thought with amusement.

“This shall be your chambers until you depart, your highness.” She gestured towards the white doors before pushing them open. What greeted him was a clean and Dornish style bedroom. He hummed, giving Aliandra a look of gratitude.

“Unfortunately, I must depart by the morrow. My brother is rather protective…”

“Really? A shame. I wished to see that dragon of yours up close.”

“Perhaps you will, if your father and mother permits it.”

Lucerys froze as he heard the sound of hissing, eyes snapping towards floor as he saw red and gold scales. A snake.

“Nymiella…” Aliandra called to the serpent as it slithered up her arm. She glanced towards Lucerys and all she could see was his fascination.

“Nymiella? Did you name her after your Ancestor, Nymeria?” He noticed, taking a step forward, before turning towards Aliandra, as if asking her for permission. The older girl nodded as she held out her hand, the serpent turning to look at him with as much fascination as he had.

“Yes. I am surprised you know such a thing."

"The stories of your ancestors fascinate me.  Unlike some of my relatives, I respect your family for having resisted the dragons of Aegon, Visenya and Rhaenys. Impressive really… to have so much power and still be so responsible.” He hummed, stroking the snake's head with his finger. “My dragon’s name is Arrax, after the Valyrian god. My brothers and mother did the same with their dragons.”

“Really? Is that not blasphemous?”

“No. To us Targaryens, naming our dragons after our gods is a way of honoring them.”

“Fascinating, why don’t you tell me more…”

And thus, rather than resting, Lucerys earned himself a new friend to argue history about. Prince Qoren and Princess Dyana had found their daughter with the visiting prince, discussing the histories of their families, exchanging information and debating on what could have been done. The rulers of Dorne glanced at each other, the princess smiling as they walked past the two.

Neither knew of what Lucerys thought at that moment.

Neither knew of the avarice that devoured Lucerys as he sought out their knowledge on how to kill dragons— he would use this to fight a war that might not come and destroy Dorne if it came to war with the Martells and Targaryen.

Victory taste sweet, Lucerys listened as Aliandra unintentionally explained the history of Dorne, subtle secrets hidden within it. The Martells… How you shot down our dragons, I will find out and use it against my enemies and when the time comes, I will figure out how to evade your defences… and destroy you if necessary.

Chapter Text

JOFFREY

“All of us have our responsibilities. Go to war, burn everything down, and I shall steal knowledge that can destroy or save a kingdom.”

His brothers were traitors who had abandoned him. Little Joffrey was merely six when his elder brothers had decided to go to war. He constantly cursed at them in his letters, but played the role of a distraught younger brother who missed Jace and Luke. In reality, he had been badly influenced by his brothers and now Lucerys tendencies had rubbed of on him.

To which he had thrown many things out the window in his own anger.

So here he was, poking little Aegon cheek, or Eggy — dubbed by the babes siblings. Rhaena chuckled as their little brother giggled, grabbing his finger and grinning.

"Why do we have to go back to King's Landing?" Joffrey asked his stepsister, frowning as he pulled his finger away from Eggy. 

His memories may not be as good as his brothers, but Joffrey was sure they never returned to King's Landing until the trial with Vaemond Velaryon. It bewildered him when their mother had announced they would be visiting the Redkeep days ago, he had gone and hastily sent a raven to his brothers. So here he was, in boat with Rhaena, Aegon, and their mother. Daemon was of flying with Caraxes.

His mother has received a letter, telling her of the king's condition and thus she has gone running back to her father. Twas Joffrey who had to go among his brothers to visit the king. Although he was hesitant, he has found a great advantage to seeing the king.

A cure… we can find a cure if we figure out what's wrong with him. Age isn't the issue, if it were, Rhaenys would be just as ill. Joffrey contemplated, humming as their mother began to explain.

"My dear, your grandsire has been unwell. I would like to let him meet Aegon at least once before he—" his mother stopped herself, falling silent as she brought her hands together and grimaced. Joffrey and Rhaena met eyes, shaking their heads as they knew what she was going to say. The king was dying.

Joffrey continued to focus on Aegon, bringing his brother into his lap. He looked down at the boy, sighing as his brother fiddled with his fingers. The child in his arms was the one who sat on the Iron Throne in their previous time. The Aegon who became king, not their uncle. Little Egg had been miserable in his time as king.

In the words of Luke: Any Aegon who becomes king after the first are miserable cunts. Although very vulgar, his brother had gone on tirade of the future kings named Aegon. Indeed did they seem miserable.

When they finally arrived to King's Landing, Daemon was there waiting with Caraxes. Syrax had flown beside the blood wyrm, quietly growling at anyone who got to close. Admittedly, Syrax was more spoiled compared to the ever so wild Caraxes. His gaze slowly turned towards his own dragon, Tyraxes, who was looking at him with a sad gaze. Joffrey pursed his lips, smiling before slowly approaching his dragon.

Although he was still getting over his fear of heights, Joffrey had enough courage to approach Tyraxes now. He let out a shaky breath as he pressed his hand against Tyraxes snout, gulping as he shook his head, "Sorry for everything… don't hate me." He whispered before Syrax turned to him with a curious look. He was quick to run away, unable to properly look at the golden dragon.

Tyraxes snapped at Syrax— his own mother, before the young dragon seemed to deflate. His mother grasped his hand, looking at the direction of their dragons and frowning. For years, his mother had taken notice to him fearing Syrax the most amongst their dragons. She knew of his fear of heights but she didn't understand why he was so scared of Syrax.

They were silent as they went through the halls of the redkeep. Joffrey could see the tension that was going through his mother and stepfather. Rhaena was by Daemon's side and Little Aegon in their mother's arms. The redkeep no longer had the colors of Targaryen, no longer were black and red draped across the walls. No longer did the three headed dragon show itself in the castle, replaced by the seven pointed star of the fair of the seven.

Joffrey grimaced.

"Rhaenyra…"

His head snapped towards the familiar voice, eyes going wide at the delighted Queen Alicent, who looked just as worried as she was happy. His mother let go of his hand, approaching the queen and taking her into her arms. The two embraced and only then did Joffrey noticed the lack of green in Alicent's dress.

She wore Black with gold and red accents rather than green. There was sincerity in her actions, longing in her eyes, and a genuine smile gracing her lips. Joffrey was bewildered, turning to Rhaena who was just as confused.

"What's happening? When did they get so close?" He asked Rhaena, who shrugged and turned to her father. Her gaze was demanding, narrowed dangerously as Daemon sighed.

"This is Jace's doing, if you would like to know. He encouraged your mother to make amends with Alicent three years ago." 

That explains a lot… diplomacy and peace, definitely Jace. Joffrey hummed, nodding as he hurried to his mother and hid behind her skirt.

Mustering all his cuteness, he gazed up at Queen Alicent with a curious look. Alicent was surprised to see him, and he smiled . Divine, blinding, adorable. Joffrey knew that he was the most angelix among his brothers and he was going to use that to his advantage. The queen visibly melted, cooing at him as she cupped his cheeks and turned to Rhaenyra. 

"Cute little boy he is." Alicent started, smiling. "Where are the rest of your boys?"

"Ah… I think it best to explain with father around."

"Indeed… now what is this little ones name?" 

Awkward silence reigns through them, as his mother avoids Alicent's gaze. Joffrey immediately deadpanned, before he tugged at the Queen's sleeve and pointed towards Daemon.

"Daemon named him Aegon!"

Alicent blinked, them blinked again, them she gaped at his stepfather. The rogue prince was foolishly whistling, avoiding her gaze before he smirked smugly. If anyone was going to be blamed for his precious brother's name, it was going to be Daemon.

"We call him Eggy though since we already have an answer uncle Aegon. Jace and Luke gave him an egg once and he dropped it." Joffrey explains in a childish manner, flailing his arms and grinning up at Alicent.

"I see… Eggy, huh?" She turns to Rhaenyra with an amused look, whilst his mother sighs and shakes her head.

"Let us… Let us go see my father." She says, trying her best not to blush.

Alicent chuckles, hooking their arms together and pulling her away from Daemon. Joffrey wat he'd in amusement, standing beside his mother to make sure that Daemon didn't. And Rhaena, sweet beloved Rhaena— his favorite sister, had also stood beside him to create a bigger gap between Rhaenyra and Daemon.

Entering the King's chambers, Joffrey blanched at the smell of incense and herbs. He was greatly displeased, hiding his face in his mother's skirts and quietly whining. He glanced around the room, surprised to see his aunt and uncles already present. But his gaze was quick to lock onto the youngest among his mother's siblings—Daeron.

Daeron looked just as Targaryen as his siblings with silvery blonde hair and purple eyes. He was nine, from what Joffrey could remember— merely three years older than him. Daeron the daring, the people had called him back then. The gentlest of queen and kings children they said. Joffrey didn't know what to think of his illusive uncle who became a ward of oldtown.

You're in charge of Daeron, Luke had instructed him years ago. He gulped, feeling rather queezy as he turned towards his mostly bedridden grandfather.

King Viserys sat on his bed, coughing as he rubbed his chest. He had lost almost all of his hair, wrinkles getting worse as he tiredly turned towards the rest of his family. Although the man looked ready to die, he still had the strength to offer the most loving smile to his firstborn.

Rhaenyra sobbed, sitting by his side and grasping his hand. He watched as his mother brought her lips to the back of her father's hand, whispering what Joffrey suspected was a prayer in high valyrian. Little Aegon was given to Daemon, who was trying to shush the fussy babe.

Admittedly, Joffrey knew what to do to keep Aegon III in control— considering how Jace was the youngest favorite and said eldest had taught them what to do when Aegon grew restless.

Light conversation went around the room, with Rhaenyra and Daemon asking how the king was, the king responding with assuring and wise words. Alicent was with them, informing the couple of Viserys' condition. Joffrey listened closely, hiding his own interest by staring at the model of ld Valyria.

"It has gotten worse. He can barely walk now… the Maesters do not know why his health has deteriorated so much." Alicent whispered.

"How can he… is there any way to cure him?"

"Not unless we know what's wrong with him."

Finding out why his grandfather was dying so early was why Joffrey had agreed to go anywhere near King's landing without his brothers. He walked to the other side of the table, glancing up at his mother before his eyes met with purple ones.

"The iron throne is affecting him." Daemon said and Joffrey almost dropped the little house.

The iron throne, Joffrey pursed his lips, Luke was right again.

"What?" Alicent blinked, confused as she frowned at her good brother. But Daemon simply shook his head, promising to explain later. For now, Joffrey would have to entertain his grandsire with his childish antics, while also boosting their reputation.

As their mother called him back to their grandsire, he plastered the sweetest smile he was capable of.

"You look nothing like me." Aegon, the older and drunken one, was already judging his nephew who was named after him. He poked little Eggy on the cheek and Joffrey was overcome by the desire to chop his arm off. Aegon smiled, "You're my favorite nephew now."

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes but she chuckled at the visible fondness her brother had for her son.

"Nephews… where are my other grandsons? Where are Jacaerys and Lucerys?" Viserys tiredly asked, looking around for his first and second grandson.

This was Joffrey's chance.

"Jace and Luke went to fight in the stepstones with their father! Luke said he would talk to the people in Dorne and— and—"

Joffrey blabbered before falling silent as he took in a deep breath. He grinned, continuing to brag about his brothers until the King broke. "You sent my grandsons to war!?" Viserys pointed an accusing finger at Daemon, who look offended.

Joffrey took a step back and stood beside the model his grandfather had made.

"I did no such thing! Those boys ran of to the stepstones on their own." Daemon clarified, huffing yet look far too proud to the liking of the adults.

"How could you allow such a thing?" Alicent asked, although her tone was not accusing, her voice was filled with worry and concern.

Rhaenyra sighed, "They are my children, Alice. You honestly think those hotheaded and stubborn boys will listen to me? Lucerys especially was ready to take Arrax to the stepstones without informing us." His mother quietly groaned, rubbing the side of her head. "Twas better that they actually asked for permission."

"I— What have you done to those boys?" Once again, Daemon was being accused. Joffrey snickered, promising to right to his brothers an accurate narrative of the events.

"Those boys never needed me to influence them! Lucerys and Jacaerys once conspired and tried to get me killed. They dropped a bloody crate from a window and it nearly crushed me!" 

Ah, yes… the incident three years ago. Daemon's recollection of it was slightly different, considering it was Joffrey's idea to drop the crate of rocks on their stepfathers head. Alas, Daemon had dodged and the three of them ran off and cried to their mother, saying it was an accident.

He glanced towards his uncles, who looked rather disturbed yet intrigued at the blatant violence of their nephews. Once again, Daeron turned his attention to Joffrey— who only offered a smile as sweet as sugar.

"When will our nephews be returning?" 

Joffrey went stiff, whipping his head around until found his gaze stuck to Aemond. This wasn't part of the plan. Aemond wasn't supposed to be interested in his nephews! 

"Indefinite… I'm sorry my dear siblings, I know how excited you were to see them." 

Huh?

"Aemond, do not be too upset. I understand that you are concerned for Lucerys, considering you have been telling your mother to ask me about him."

Huh?

"You too Aegon, Jace will be fine.  He recovered from that little fight he had with Luke moons ago so his wrist is completely healed by now."

What?

"You two really should have written to them directly instead of asking me. Really now, I've upheld your request of not telling them of your concerns, but I know my darling sons would appreciate it." 

Excuse me?! When the hell did this happen? Joffrey gaped, stared, then felt faint. When did this all happen? Letters? Concerns? Aegon and Aemond being worries about his brothers? What bullshit was being spouted right now?!

The only way he could know was ask.

"M… Mama, what are you talking about?" His smile faltered, but he kept his curious gaze on his mother. Rhaenyra offered a gentle smile, placing a hand over dark brown, almost black curls.

"Your elder brother thought it would be a good idea for me to correspond with Queen Alicent. We've apologized to each other and have become friends again, sending letters every moon or so. Some time ago, Alicent started adding little questions her children asked about your siblings. Aemond and Aegon were the ones mentioned most, especially about their concerns of your siblings." Rhaenyra chuckles, sending a teasing look towards her younger brothers. "Though they made me promise to never tell your brothers." 

A flaw… a fucking flaw! An unforseen variable in our plan. Joffrey grit his teeth, hiding his frustration with a pleasant smile. This never happened in the past. Not in their previous lives. Their uncles were cunts who wanted them dead, who called them bastards, who treated them like trash. They would never have tried to check up on them, never tried to think of their health. At the very least, Daeron was just as nonchalant as he was in their previous life.

But Aegon and Aemond had changed. They weren't the same— perhaps it was the fact they were already changing things that it affected their uncles. What mysteries the universe and fate had placed upon them, it caused their uncles to pay attention to his brothers. It was good to see them be so worried of his brothers, but it would be an inconvenience.

He'd have to inform his brothers of it quickly, without their mother knowing. She could never know what malicious things were written into those letters, coded and hiden, but they were still there.

He could only imagine the horror their mother would display at the sight of those letters written in high valyrian. Words of murder, of blood, of fire, of war. Those letters were to be burned after they were read. Their promised such when Lucerys and Jacaerys had departed to the stepstones. With them and their father present, Grandfather Corlys would have a smaller chance of getting hurt. Vaemond would be held back for a time, but how much time was the question.

Things have already changed. Joffrey pursed his lips, before smiling at his mother and continued to pike Little Eggy on the cheek. He could only imagine when Viserys would be born, he would be the only one of the first three boys his mother birthed to be present.

We need to figure out a way to write more secretive letters.

Chapter Text

AEMOND

“I cannot sleep without seeing the broken ghost of who you once were. You may not remember my sins but I shall kneel before you and pray for your forgiveness. Forgive me.”

Years ago, Aemond lost an eye and gained himself the biggest dragon alive. Vhagar, the dragon of the warrior queen Visenya, had chosen Aemond as her new rider. When he lost himself an eye, Aemond saw many things. Maybe not see, more like remember. It was like waking up from a long dream. These visions were vague. He could not understand them but he was filled with emotions, with desires that he knew not of. It wasn't until he turned ten and three did he come to understand why.

He remembered that fucking pig. He remembered Storm's end. He remembered demanding an eye. He remembered chasing after a pearlescent dragon and loosing control of Vhagar. He remembered a woman with dark eyes and haid that, a woman he used for his own delusions. Aemond remembered Daemon stabbing his remaining eye our and falling— the same way Lucerys fell. He remembered Lucerys. 

Lucerys…

His sister's bastard.

Lucerys.

The falsified heir of driftmark.

Lucerys.

The boy who he had killed. The boy who started the damn dance.

Lucerys. 

His beloved nephew. His precious and sweet nephew.

Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys. Lucerys.

Nephew.

The very same nephew who was now staring at his bloodied face. He felt petite hands cup his cheeks and he opened his remaining eye to see Lucerys staring at him, pale— as if he saw a ghost. Lucerys embraced him, whispering apologies and keeping him close. Aemond felt as if all his sins were washed away.

Lucerys .

"Aemond." 

He felt himself breath as he buried his head into his nephews shoulder. He let himself cry, not knowing if it was the pain or his relief. His hands shakily moved, snaking them around Lucerys waist as he sobbed. Lucerys felt so warm, so gentle, so alive. 

When one of the king's guard took him away from Lucerys, he rightfully lashed out and started screaming again. He kept demanding to see his nephew, he hadn't realized that it seemed like he was demanding for blood. When he was being treated by the Maesters, Lucerys kept his eyes on the flame. Jace looked just as pale, just as silent as his brother.

Lucerys had offered his eye. Lucerys had simply stood there and waited for his mother to take his eye and be done with it. When Lucerys did not get what he wanted, he strived to make it happen with his own hands.

Aemond never believed his nephew to be so reckless, so careless, so cold. He was proven wrong when Lucerys had climbed up the walls of driftmark and offered his eye again. Aemond felt haunted as he looked into Lucerys' eyes, devoid of any emotion that should be there. Devoid of the light that he had adored so much.

The next day, Aemond turned back only once and refused to do so again when he saw Lucerys watching him fly away on Vhagar.

Aemond remembered it all by the time he was ten and three. He had stayed in bed for an entire day, trembling and whimpering as he stared at his ceiling and kept his mouth shut. He refused to leave his room, never responding to his mother's calls, not even coming out when the king requested for him.

Aemond stayed there and refused to close his eyes. Had he done so, he would remember the storm, he would see Lucerys falling and vanishing into the storm with bits of his dragon trailing down with him.

Guilt ridden and horrified, Aemond had lost many nights to his fears.

"The sapphire has returned at last. Did you enjoy the dream of peace?" Helaena came to his room one a day and asked him such. Curiosity and exhaustion in her gaze, smiling as much as she could as she pushed back his hair. 

He wasn't alone, was all he could focus on. That day, Aemond cried and closed his eyes for more than a minute. He held his sister tight, profusely apologizing for all his sins. Sweet, kind, and wonderful Helaena hummed and took his face into her hands. Her smile was angelic but her words cut through him like dark sister piercing through his eye.

"‘Tis not I who you should seek forgiveness from."

Lucerys

Since then, Aemond tirelessly trained and trained. He did anything to put his mind of his nephew, that is until he found his mother reading letters with lovely smiles. It was Aegon who discovered who the letters were from. Aemond wouldn't lie about being surprised that they were from their eldest sister.

Rhaenyra had been sending letters to their mother for moons now. It was a bewildering fact that their mother explained to them. She and Rhaenyra had been slowly making amends, exchanging letters and telling each other of what was happening in Dragonstone and King's Landing. To their surprise, their mother looked so soft, so gentle, so loving as she read her letters. It would have been a subject of envy had it not been for how their mother kept mentioning their nephews. 

It only took him a few more days to realize that Aegon was acting differently. His elder brother was more docile, less drunk, more diligent than he was before. Aemond was suspicious, until he found Aegon in his tub crying to himself. His brother— the usurper cunt, their uncle once called him— Aegon had also returned.

"Do you regret everything?" Aegon asked him, madness in his eyes as tears flowed down his cheeks. He looked miserable, tilting his head as he offered a tired smile.

Aemond nodded, "Every day. But I'm working to make up for it, no matter how small. What about you? What have you been doing?" 

"Being less of a dick than I once was."

"You're still a cunt."

"I'm trying…"

Aemond frowned at his brother, shaking his head as Aegon hugged his knees close. His elder brother was only three years older than him, yet from where Aemond looked, it seemed as thought Aegon was smaller. To be fair, he was the tallest among his siblings.

"Do you think their the same as us?"

The they in question were the Velaryon Boys. Aemond had suspected much but Lucerys wouldn't have apologized to him. The Lucerys he knew would never climb up his window to offer his eye and apologize for everything. No, his nephew would condemn him. His nephew would despise him and wish for his head after what he had done. Aemond had killed not only Lucerys, but also his dragon— that was a sin hardly forgivable in their family.

This world was just different from their previous ones. Mayhaps the Lucerys Velaryon of this world was just colder and more sophisticated. The Jacaerys of this world had been more silent and stoic. Had they been brought back the same as them, those boys would have attacked them without a second thought— they had every right . 

It was a cruel thing to know but Aemond was sure of himself with that. Lucerys despised him with all his heart—he would never apologize. Aemond would be able to live with that, so long as he is allowed to even catch a glimpse of his nephew, he was willing to grovel, to get down on his knees and beg to Lucerys as if he were a god.

"Mother says that sister speaks of our nephews. Jacaerys has been training with Daemon and Laenor."

"Another difference… Laenor Velaryon is still alive."

"Hm… she also mentioned little Lucerys. He trains with them more than Jace."

Aemond sighed, pressing a hand over his chest as he closed his eye. Lucerys. 

"Is that so…"

So it began…

Aegon and Aemond were fools indeed. They would sit with their mother and sister, ask how their nephews were doing. Alicent, at the beginning, was quite surprised by their interest but soon relented and asked their sister how their nephews were. Their mother had laughed when she read how Rhaenyra was happy to hear about her siblings and would also like to write to them.

To their chagrin, Jace and Luke were unavailable due to their training. Jacaerys was heavily occupied with his training as future king, heir to the iron throne. Like his brother, Lucerys was busy with being heir to driftmark. He was training with his father and grandfather, voyaging through the seas from time to time as their sister wrote.

Many things had changed since he officially woke up. Their father had been more caring towards them, often calling for one of them to keep him company. One time it was Aemond and he found himself listening to stories of Valyria, stories of their fathers dragon— the great Balerion. Viserys had been all too happy to brag about Balerion, but also spoke of the pain he felt when Balerion had passed.

Aemond often flinched at that. Hisind often wondered to a question, how painful was it for Lucerys to loose Arrax? He would never know the answer. He could only assume as he listened to his father tell his stories.

Regardless, due to such care and love, Daeron was dragged back go King's landing. Their younger brother, the last to wake up from their nightmare of the future had clung to them like a lifeline. He refused to return to Oldtown, cursing out their grandsire and telling them of how badly they cared for Tessarion. Daeron was made to stay with them, no longer was a he a cupbearer to Lord Ormund Hightower.

As time passed, the decorations of the seven were slowly being taken down in the redkeep. The three headed dragon was slowly integrated back into the decor, along with their mother not wearing green anymore. Alicent Hightower— Queen Alicent Targaryen now wore black and red. Her four children were absolutely ecstatic, following her example and dressing themselves in the colors of their house.

Then one day… when Aemond was ten and six, his sister had returned to King's Landing three years earlier than the previous time.

They spoke of their fathers illness. Their uncle has mentioned the iron throne and he met eyes with Helaena— they would investigate that soon. 

Then came news they never expected.

"You sent my grandsons to war!?" Their father yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Daemon.

The four of them froze.

Jacaerys and Lucerys were at the stepstones. They were going to war with the triarchy. 

Lucerys was in danger. 

All his instincts screamed at him to move, to mount Vhagar and go south. He needed to protect Lucerys, he needed to make sure he was safe. War was not something Lucerys was supposed to go through. He refused to let them, so he asked his sister when they would return.

She did not give a proper answer.

Another three years has passed and the fateful day of that wretched trial had arrived. Vaemond Velaryon had the audacity to petition to the crown when news of both Laenor and Corlys being injured in battle was spread across Westeros. The second son of house Velaryon didn't hesitate to latch on to his chances and fight for the driftwood throne.

"Did you know that the Velaryon Boys are backed up by Arryn, Baratheon, and Stark?" Daeron told them.

The older three paused what they were doing, setting down the books of old Valyria. Their research was not as fruitful as they thought, but at least they learned some things. The cause of their return was yet to be known. 

"When the hell did that happen?" Aegon asked.

Daeron shrugged, "Their related to them. Apparently Aemma Arryn, father's first wife, had black hair before she gave birth to our sister. Aunt Rhaenys also had dark hair before she gave birth to Laenor, like her mother Jocelyn Baratheon."

Aemond froze. Dark hair like Lucerys' . 

"Their not Bastards…" Aegon whispered, "They just took after their grandmothers."

Otto has spoken treason. Aemond grit his teeth and clenched his fist. Another factor to our family's ruination.

"Hair as dark as the night and eyes like voids… Wronged, angered, and vengeful… blood shall be shed." Helaena whispered, gracefully turning a page as she refused to look up from her book.

They had discovered she was a dragon dreamer. Helaena had prophetic dreams that caused her to go insane when her son was killed. It's my fault, Aemond thinks of his unborn nephew. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were not born in this world. Aegon and Helaena were not made to wed, both having ran away from King's landing when Otto had the gal to suggest a thing.

"Sister will arrive tomorrow and the trial will begin the day after… what of Jacaerys and Lucerys? They are still in the stepstones." Aemond reminded them, frowning.

"We just have to wait.

The fateful day had come sooner than they thought.

Though they reunited with their sister, their nephews and nieces, two of them were still missing.

Aemond sighed as he watched little Joffrey follow Daeron around with a gleeful smile. It reminded him of him and Luke when they were younger, there was bitterness in his heart that understood those days have ended. He envied Daeron who had done no wrong to Joffrey and vice versa.

"My father is a fool." He heard his mother say as they followed her and Rhaenyra to the throne room. "Why Viserys hasn't removed him as Lord Hand baffles me."

"We still need to look for a proper replacement for him." Rhaenyra murmurs, turning to Daemon with an expectant look. However, there those who disagreed to having Daemon as hand of the king.

"You would be a good Lady Hand." Daemon and Alicent said in unison, halting their steps as they chose to stare each other.

"Enough! We must make haste. Vaemond has the audacity to challenge my son's claim even though he is absent…" Rhaenyra sighed, "Let us pray to the gods that my boys received the raven we sent." 

They continued on their little march to the throne room. His siblings were a few steps behind their mother, Rhaenyra's litter of children closer to their mother. On the other hand, Princess Rhaenys was marching a few steps ahead of all of them. The fury in her eyes blazed brighter than Meleys' flames. 

"Sister, what are we to do if Jace and Luke don't arrive on time?" Aegon asked, cautiously looking around at the skeptical court members.

Rhaenyra was quick to answer, "We stall. Jacaerys and Lucerys will arrive, even if they are late, they will come. If they don't, then I shall mount Syrax and hunt them down myself." She vowed, taking in deep breaths as she straightened her back. The Queen and Crown Princess stood beside Rhaenys; Rhaenyra in the middle, Alicent and Rhaenys on either of her sides.

Her expression was hard as she ordered the guards to open the doors and they were greeted by the horrid sight of Otto Hightower sitting upon the iron throne.

Aemond clenched his fist, narrowing his eyes at his grandfather before turning to his sister.

"How dare he…"

Chapter Text

“Dragons are creatures who protect their own. Whether they quarrel or not, they will protect each other. Dragons, fierce and bloodthirsty... It is a fool's choice to make one your enemy... Especially if you try to hurt their mother.”

Rhaenyra rubs her hands together, praying to the gods for patience. Vaemond had just insulted her and her children. She looks towards the iron throne, her ancestors throne, her father's throne, her throne. The sight of Otto Hightower sitting upon it disgusted her, resisting the urge to just grab Dark sister and beheading the man for his arrogance.

Her gaze turned towards Alicent who stood beside her, a grimace on her friends face. She couldn't help the satisfaction that courses through her at the sight of the black, red, and gold that adorned the queen. Such a wonder that made her eyes light up, but her heart dropped as she continued on to listen to Vaemond's insolence.

Where were her boys, where were her sons? She prayed once more, silent and pleading— she prayed to have her sons arrive in time.

"My Lord Hand. This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother’s successor, the Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides."

Rhaenyra grits her teeth. Breath in, breath out, she told herself as she narrowed her eyes at Otto. 

 "Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon."

My son is the rightful heir! He is Laenor's son in everything but blood and that is enough! How dare you!  

Rhaenyra stood forward. Her eyes glared holes into Otto Hightower who continued to act so arrogantly. The man was a fool who dared to harm her children.

"If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, in this very—"

Everyone froze as they turned towards the doors. The guards held it open as one took a deep breath an announced a title befitting a king, 

"King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

Rhaenyra gasped, unable to remove her eyes from her father who walked towards the throne. He no longer looked like the withering man he was years ago. No, King Viserys, first of his name, walked towards the throne with his back straight and Dragonfire burning in his eyes.

Otto Hightower shot up in his feet and Rhaenyra was never more proud of her father.

"Aemma?"

He heard a laugh, vision clearing as he gazed into maroon like eyes. Aemma had softer looking eyes, a purplish brown. Not this reddish color.

"No grandsire, but I would have loved to meet our grandmother."

Viserys' eyes went wide as he sat up. His eyes fixated upon the two boys on either side of his bed. They looked identical to his beloved first wife, yet they resembled his darling daughter more than anything else. Tears pricked his eyes as he finally realized who these boys were

"I— you've returned… you are safe…" he whispered as one of the boys took hold of his hand. The one with redder eyes compared to the other. The older of the two had specks of purple dying dark pools, an ethereal mix of god and human in the king's eyes.

"Our honor has been stained. Our mother has been degraded by people who call us bastards. " Viserys flinched as anger rose through him. "We have returned to protect our family from heathens who wish to take our throne, to take my inheritance. Grandsire, as you love our mother and grandmother… Would you spare us the time and help defend us?"

Viserys let out a tired breath. His body was no longer how it used to be. He gazed down upon his hands, calloused from the cuts the iron throne had given him. The throne had rejected him, refused him and he could only hope that in another life that King Jaehaerys had agreed to make Rhaenys queen.

He let out a quiet sob and felt another hand press against his shoulder. With tearful eyes, he looked towards his eldest grandson. Even with his old age, Viserys could see a good king born from his grandson. He cried once more, thanking the gods for such a blessing.

"The throne hasn't been kind to you grandsire, but you must endure a little longer. You must live to see the day your daughter wears your crown and sits upon the throne… grandmother Aemma would wish you to do so." His eldest grandson's voice was soothing as his brother offered him a glass.

"Drink… Today… the seven kingdoms will see their king once more."

And Viserys, unknowing of what was in the glass, took it and drank it all. He felt it burn down his throat but whatever fire he had died down years ago— and it reignited with what he had drunk. He felt alive, he felt free. He felt fire coursing through his veins as he took his grandson's hand and stood on his own feet. The pain was vanishing and he felt like a new man.

He dressed himself in black. He dressed himself in red. The crown placed upon his head by his eldest grandson and he slammed the doors open, shocking the guards who knew of his state.

"I shall go to trial. My family will not be tarnished by the arrogance of a man who does not understand us dragons."

The guards stuttered, falling silent as they saw two boys standing behind the king. Their hands moved to the sheathes of their swords and it angered Viserys, how dare they attack his grandsons.

"Stand your ground you insolent fools. Do you not recognize your princes?"

The name Targaryen had been dishonored to the point people no longer recognized his grandchildren. He would not allow such a thing to happen as he marched towards the throne room, his grandsons on either of his sides. The guards turned to him in surprise but Viserys steeled himself and stood proud. 

His grandson bowed, "We shall wait out here, grandsire…"

Viserys smiled, "Dragons… dramatic children you are, just like your mother."

He waved to the guards, demanding them to open the doors.

It felt like he was reborn as he took a single step forward and his eyes met with Rhaenyra.

"King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

Until Rhaenyra becomes queen, he will continue to be king and protect his family.

“I must admit my confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys’s wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.” Viserys explains, frowning down at Vaemond. The fiery liquid that his grandson had him drink still warmed his through.

He turns towards his cousin, the rightful queen, as he often told himself in his lowest moments. "Cousin, do confirm it."

Rhaenys nodded, "It is my husband's will that Driftmark passes on to Laenor and if our son is no more, it will pass on to his trueborn son, Lucerys." Rhaenys explained, scowling at Vaemond.

"My grandson have fought long and hard with my son and husband at the stepstones, both of them. It is shameful of you to question them when they have risked their lives for our family."

Viserys nodded in agreement.

However, Vaemond resisted. "Lucerys is young! Laenor has been injured and so has my brother. He cannot rule over driftmark." Yet, was nonexistent.

Viserys pursed his lips as he felt a finger get cut by the throne. "I see…"

Otto's eyes seemed to shine as he heard those words, while Rhaenyra looked pained at the supposed understanding of her father. Viserys merely smiled, turning to Vaemond with a look of amusement. "Then care to tell him that?"

"Excuse me?"

Once again, the doors of the throne room were pushed open and black and red cloakes flashed before their eyes. The king looked satisfied as his grandsons entered the room with style.

"Lord Jacaerys Velaryon, son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne. Son of Laenor Velaryon, heir to driftmark. Second in line to the iron throne."

Jacaerys was tall, lean, and looked extremely cold. His expression was as blank as a canvas, flickers of purple in his eyes as he observed the court members like a hawk. Visibly dissatisfied, he clicked his tongue and glanced towards his brother.

Aegon shuddered under his nephews gaze, rubbing his arm as he squirmed on where he stood.

"Lord Lucery Velaryon, son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, heir to the iron throne. Son of Laenor Velaryon, heir to driftmark. Third in line to the iron throne."

Lucerys was slightly taller than his brother, almost the same height as Aemond as he walked. While Jacaerys had a black cloak on, Lucerys was wearing one of a dark blood red. The curls on his hair seemed to become less, messier and more wild in a way that represented his nature. Amusement flickered in his eyes as he observed the court, as if they were mere circus acts presented to him.

Aemong let out a shaky breath, pressing a hand over his face as he closed his eyes. The very boy who haunted his mind was finally here.

The two walked passed Vaemond as if he was dust in their path and neither spared the man a single glance. Their eyes were stuck on their mother, then their grandfather on the throne. Both bowed in unison, but everyone could see that they did not simply submit. Silence reigned as Viserys chuckles, delighted at the spectacle. 

"I am… pleased to announce that my grandsons have returned with victory in hand. The stepstones have successfully been claimed and the triarchy has fled, am I correct?" Viserys asked, turning to his grandsons with eager eyes. 

The boys glanced at each other and smirked, "The triarchy has been pushed back and they have fled to Essos. The Martells have guaranteed that they will not negotiate with the Triarchy in the near future… I have also been told of a… potential alliance." Lucerys explained, chuckling to himself as if there was a joke. Jacaerys sighed and shook his head.

Aemond and Aegon didn't like the way he said it, as if the implications of an alliance was a mere act to hide something more significant. 

"Father and Grandfather are on their way. It seems that news of their injuries have spread," Jace turned towards the court with a disdainful expression. "But their wounds are not as life threatening as most have stated. Ser Laenor has only sustained a concussion and is unable to fly on Seasmoke while Lord Corlys is suffering from severe exhaustion— but they will recover soon enough."

"That is wonderful news. With the news of the recovery of Lord of Driftmark and his heir, the petition to replace the heir is… null and void."

"I cannot allow this!" Vaemond declares, seething as he glared at the boys. Yet the man flinched as he met Lucerys' eyes— dark as the night but they seemed to bleed red.

An eerie smile split across his face and the elder of the two looked severely irritated. Before Jacaerys could even speak, Lucerys had gone off.

"Allow it? You don't have the power to even stop it." Lucerys laughs, absolutely hysterical as he began to mock and tear Vaemond to shreds, "You already have the audacity to come here, petition for a change of heirs the moment your brother and nephew are said be injured. You act as if their already in their graves! Then, you accuse us of being bastards, dishonoring my mother and father."

Jacaerys was quick to grab his brothers hand, narrowing his eyes. There was a warning to his gaze, before the elder of the two clicked his tongue and let him go.

Lucerys smirked, "Besides, there's no proof that I, or my brothers are illegitimate. Might I remind you that both of our grandmothers have dark hair before they gave birth to our parents. Goodness now, have you already forgotten what Princess Rhaenys looked like before our father was born? Has age affected your memory? Oh, perhaps not since our grandparents have fully functional minds."

Vaemond turned redder and redder but Jacaerys seemed to just accept the chaos ans continued for his brother, "Baratheon and Arryn have acknowledged us, Lucerys, Joffrey, and myself, as part of their family. We might not look much like Targaryen… but then again if you combine Arryn and Baratheon blood there is a chance that those two will win in terms of appearances."

"And need I remind you that not ever Velaryon has dark skin like you and your brother. Look at your children!" Lucerys grinned as he gestured toward Lord Vaemond's sons who were similar in age to them. The younger of the two was as pale as their mother, flinching as he hid behind the woman's skirts. "Your younger son has skin as white as snow, tell me… Is he a bastard?"

"HOW DARE YOU! To accuse—"

"Yes, I fucking dare, hypocritical cunt." Lucerys spat, sword instinctively moving to the hilt of his blade.

Jacaerys glared at him, placing a hand on his shoulder and pulling him back. Jace knew that his brother had a temper, one that was cruelly cultivated during the war and his escapades to Dorne. He narrowed his eyes, whispering into his brother's ear and telling him to calm down.

Lucerys merely hummed, following his brothers silent orders and taking a small step back.

"I've had enough of you spouting lies about us, Lord Vaemond. My brothers and I have suffered but most of all, our dear mother has suffered. We can endure so much but the slander that ails our mother will not be accepted. Rhaenyra Targaryen is the rightful heir to the iron throne and you are arrogant enough to speak treason by calling her children bastards." Jacaerys glanced towards his mother, his gaze softening as he saw how proud she seemed.

The two immediately turned towards their grandfather, expectant gazes drilling into thean before the king finally spoke. He stood from his throne, looking down at the lords and ladies of the court and brought down the final verdict.

"This matter has been settled. There will be no change of heirs, Lucerys shall be heir to driftmark after ser Laenor, just as Jacaerys will be heir after Rhaenyra… and might I add that… Jacaerys Velaryon shall now be known as Jacaerys Targaryen." 

Eyes went wide at the announcement.

An official announcement of who was to inherit the iron throne. With Rhaenyra's firstborn given the name of Targaryen, her claim as heir is final. Rhaenyra would be queen and her son, heir and future king. No one would be able to question her anymore and that was what Viserys wanted.

No one saw the subtle looks of triumph the Velaryon Boys shared, except for their uncles and aunt. They looked smug. They were confident and that look in their eyes told them that the declaration was absolute.

"You break law and centuries of tradition, to install your daughter as heir," Vaemond grit his teeth. "Yet  you dare tell me…who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon," he scoffed. 

"No, I will not allow it!"

Jacaerys and Lucerys were quick to move as their postures went stiff. Their eyes flashed as they turned to Vaemond, threatening and imposing—daring him to speak further. But the anger had gotten to Vaemond's head and he didn't hesitate to spew flames that did not harm anyone.

They turned towards Joffrey who had pulled back the nursemaids holding Aegon III and Viserys II. Their little brother was quick to react and demand for the two women to turn his brothers away. They knew what was going to happen—a chance of kinslaying.

Daemon had his hand on the handle of dark sister, already putting his pregnant wife behind him.

" THAT IS NO TRUE VELARYON! " Vaemond screamed, pointing at the three boys with dark hair. "That is not nephew of mine!" The way he said the word that rather than he was like calling them vermin.

"Lucerys is my trueborn grandson and you… are no more than the second son of driftmark." Viserys frowned, resisting the urge to descend the throne and embrace his daughter and grandchildren. He couldn't stand the slander placed on them.

"You may run your house as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. And gods be damned, I will not see it ended on the account of this…" He trailed off, turning towards Lucerys and his brother who merely smiled.

"Say it," Lucerys mocked, itching for a fight as his fingers twitched over the hilt of his sword.

"Her children are BASTARDS! " 

The sweet sense of success courses through his veins. Unlike his brothers, Lucerys found something to be proud of when he was called a bastard. He blamed the future he saw, a future where many bastards ruled over Westeros.

"And she is… a wh—"

Vaemond choked as he felt cold steel press against both sides of his neck. Fearful eyes turned towards the bloodthirsty sons of Rhaenyra Targaryen, sword unsheathed and pressed against his neck. He saw it in their eyes, their lack of hesitance at the mere thought of kinslaying but then again, if they were really bastards, then it wasn't kinslaying. But he knew which one was more willing to kill him, which one had eyes that reflected blood.

Neither of the boys were willing to move, eyes stuck to Vaemond who had the audacity to insult their mother.

The youngest of the Velaryon Boys looked just as murderous, although without a weapon, a sword was in reach for him. Joffrey looked ready to grab Dark sister and drive it into Vaond, uncaring of the title of kinslayer.

"I should slice your mouth open and stitch it shut after you say such slanderous words to our mother. You fucking cunt, she's heir to the throne and you are nothing! " Lucerys growled, pressing the blade further as Jacaerys kept silent and glared at Vaemond.

"You speak of treason against the crown, in some cases, you would be executed but… as you are grandsire's brother, I feel obligated to offer you a trial." Jacaerys snarled, slowly lowering his sword and narrowing his eyes at Lucerys to do the same. Lucerys scoffed, lowering his sword only ever so slightly. "Be thankful for my mercy, Lord Vaemond."

Jace soon called for the guards, orderinf them to take Vaemond to the dungeons. Ser Harold nodded, dragging the man, along with two more kingsguard, out of the hall. But Vaemond was a fool under his ambition. He shoved against the guards and lunged towards Rhaenyra. He should have gone for Jace or Luke— maybe then would the man received the faintest but mercy left from the two.

Lucerys didn't hesitate to unsheathe his sword again and the sound of a blade meeting flesh resounded through the hall. Screams echoed, as Vaemond fell to the ground, clutching the stump of his shoulder and staring at his severed arm in horror. He turned towards Lucerys, who didn't hesitate to kick him down, pinning him to the floor with his foot against Vaemond's abdomen.

Jacaerys cursed under his breath, kicking the arm away from his mother and turned to Vaemond with absolute fury in his eyes. He could have excused an attack on himself and Lucerys, but their mother? Their pregnant mother who had lost their darling Visenya in the first life—Vaemond had provoked all three of them.

Joffrey was a surprising case, as the youngest of the Velaryon Boys had grabbed hold of his stepfather's blade, pointing Dark sister to the side of Vaemond's head. How he was able to hold it so steadily, no one knew how.

"You could have gone after me. After my brother." Lucerys murmured, pressing his foot further against Vaemond's abdomen. He stared at the man with eyes flickering red, a cruel smile on his face. "My mother has been shamed because of your lies and you dare to go after her when she is pregnant with my little sister. I should kill you for that, but I don't want to be a kinslayer."

Jace scoffed, knowing full well that was a lie. He knew that—and he had to stop his murderous brother from killing the unfortunate yet idiotic man. 

"Lucerys! That is enough." He snapped.

Lucerys clicked his tongue, stomping on Vaemond's stomach before taking a few steps back. The guards were quick to grab the catatonic Vaemond, who seemed to be speechless of the loss of his arm. Lucerys wishes he had cut the other one, but then again—Vaemond was right handed.

The thought made him smirk.

He turned towards Jace who looked annoyed of the mess he created. His elder brother ordered for someone to take the arm as well, before sighing and muttering a little apology to most.

The middle of the Velaryon Boys hummed, smiling ruefully as he turned towards his aunt and uncles. As expected due to Joffrey's letters, Daeron was present this time.

He grinned, eyes lingering on Aemond a bit longer.

Jace grabbed him by the arm, whispering into his ear, "Stop looking at Aemond… you look like you want to eat him."

Maybe I am. 

Chapter Text

AEMOND

“Look at me. Please look at me. Look upon the sins I have committed just for you.”

Just like the past, his father had come to defend his sister and her sons. But Aemond never expected to see his father look so alive . For years, his mother, sister, and uncle had slowly lost hope for his recovery. Even they were struggling to find a cure to whatever curse the iron throne has placed upon him. Yet here he was, walking on his two feet, back straight, and a determined look on his face as he ascended the throne.

He listened as his father seemed to drill Vaemond for proper answers. Although he tried to hide it, Aemond could see the fury in his father's eyes. The audacity Vaemond had to insult his family. It was something that hasn't changed.

But something did.

"Then care to tell him that?"

The doors were opened and Aemond snapped his head towards it. 

"Lord Jacaerys Velaryon, son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne. Son of Laenor Velaryon, heir to driftmark. Second in line to the iron throne."

Jacaerys entered the hall, confidence oozing off of him as he strided along them. It was as if they were all meager ants in front of him, scrutiny in gaze as he observed the court.

"Lord Lucery Velaryon, son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, heir to the iron throne. Son of Laenor Velaryon, heir to driftmark. Third in line to the iron throne."

Aemond's breath hitched as the younger of the two followed his brother. Lucerys was slightly taller than Jace, a lazy and manic kind of arrogance emitting of him as he walked a step behind his brother. His hair was messier, a bit longer than it once was but it contained his boyish self. Yet, he seemed different—more cruel, more cocky, more… dangerous.

The ephemeral gleam of red in his eyes was captivating, watching the court as if they were food. Aemond craved for it, fidgeting on the spot he stood as he kept his eye on his nephew—the boy so different from the last life. Lucerys felt more roguish and arrogant compared to the sweet and lovely boy he once was. But Aemond relished in it.

Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. Please I beg of you.

Look at me Please!

He listened to Lucerys as he mocked Vaemond, called his youngest son a bastard for having pale skin. His attention was solely on his nephew, as he tried his best to keep his hands to himself. He tucked them behind his back, but Helaena had to pinch him for the fidgeting of his hands. 

"HOW DARE YOU! To accuse—"

"Yes, I fucking dare, hypocritical cunt." Lucerys growled, eyes blazing as he turned to Vaemond as if he were vermin in his halls. 

That was enough for Aemond to start shuddering, unable to remove his attention at how feral Lucerys seemed. He felt heat burst through his body and his pants had gone tight. How shameful of you Aemond, he gulped. Yet, the voice who said those words belonged to the very boy who caused his body to react this way. 

When Vaemond accused them of not being Velaryons, Aemond could not lie about the fact that he had grabbed hold of the hilt of his sword. He was going to murder the man, cut his tongue off, chop his head off, and present it to Lucerys as if it were an offering to a god. He imagined kneeling before Lucerys who sat upon the iron throne, his god forsaken smirk plastered across his face as Aemond knelt.

He gulped, Fool. He thought to himself and shake his head.

Such blasphemous thoughts would require him to kneel before the Sept rather than his nephew. 

"Her children are BASTARDS! And she is… a wh—"

It happened in seconds.

Aemond watched as both sons of Rhaenyra unsheathed their swords and instantly pointed the sharp edges of their blades against Vaemond's neck. Aemond felt like drowning, unable to breath as his heart pounded against his chest.

Such fury, a beautiful kind of anger that carved itself through Lucerys' face. Aemond envied Vaemond for receiving such emotions, unable to stop himself from grabbing the hilt of his own sword. His breath hitched, finally able to breath.

Fuck…

Vaemond was being dragged by the guards but broke free of them. The man lunged towards his sister and it caused everyone to react, even himself. Aemond saw his mother move, screaming for guards to protect Rhaenyra as Aegon took several steps forward. Even he had unsheathed his sword. But none of them were as fast as Lucerys.

The sweet sound of metal slicing through skin and the smell of blood wafted through the air. Aemond was frozen in place, sword out and ready to attack but he couldn't move. 

Lucerys stood there, blood on his boots and blade as he stared down at Vaemond with the coldest smile Aemond had seen. 

"You could have gone after me. After my brother." Lucerys murmured, driving his foot into Vaemond's abdomend as if he could impale it. "My mother has been shamed because of your lies and you dare to go after her when she is pregnant with my little sister. I should kill you for that, but I don't want to be a kinslayer ."

Aemond flinched, shaking his head as he hesitantly sheathed his sword. His gaze wandered, trying to distract himself from the guilt trying to drown him. His eyes landed upon Joffrey, to his surprise, the youngest of the Velaryon Boys had gotten a hold of Dark sister and was ready to stab their uncle.

Soon, Jacaerys had taken control of the situation and ordered the guards to take Vaemond to the dungeons. A scowl was plastered across the face of Rhaenyra's firstborn. Aemond couldn't help but glance at his brother, who was squirming on the spot and had to be dragged back to his place by Daeron once they noticed he had moved towards Jacaerys. 

Aemond once again froze as Lucerys' eyes scanned the room and soon landed on him. Dark eyes lingered for a moment; and Aemond relished in the attention he was given. He cursed Jace for pulling Lucerys away and whispering something no one could hear. But Lucerys simply smirked and turned to his brother with a provocative look.

Such a look that incited something… unholy. Aemond begged the gods to hide his beating heart.

"Joffrey, put the damn sword down." Lucerys snapped, gently pushing his older brother away and turning to the younger one instead. "You're body still can't handle that much physical strain, remember that." He said, and Joffrey seemed to remember something.

His eyes went from Lucerys to the sword and Joffrey nodded. The boy turned towards Daemon, who looked rather stunned that his blade had been taken from it's sheathe so easily. Before Joffrey could even speak, Lucerys had grabbed Dark Sister from his brother and watched as Joffrey's posture relaxed.

Then, the middle of the Velaryon Boys hummed and examined the sword with interest. A smile graced his lips as he turned towards his stepfather, "If you die, can I have this?" 

Jacaerys promptly slapped the back of his head and Lucerys let out an offended yelp.

"You fu—"

Another slap to the head.

Aemond watched, amused at their bickering.

His father then ordered for everyone except for their family to exit the halls. And did Aemond enjoy watching them scurry out the hall with their tails tucked between their legs. The Velaryon Boys were clearly more fearsome than expected and none seemed willing to pick a fight with them.

Aemond kept his eye on Lucerys, watching as he kicked his foot to the air and seemed to splatter the last of Vaemond's blood on the floor. It was disgusting arousing.

Lucerys mindlessly played with the blood until his mother spoke, 

"Lucerys…"

Said boys head snapped and Aemond cringed away at it. The immediate switch of personalities was a scary thing to see— as Lucerys went from playing with blood to a puppy who obediently bounded to its mother. Lucerys didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around his mother and nuzzle his face into the crook of her neck and Aemond swore he heard his nephew pur.

 It felt unnatural compared to the ruthlessness he displayed moments ago, yet Aemond could somehow understand it. Had he murdered a man and his mother called for him, he would have wiped the blood of and hug her tight. He would have been sinning and he would have regretted for a moment, but never did he see such regret in Lucerys' eyes. 

Look at me. Look at me please. Spare me a single glance, I beg of you. Oh how he has fallen from grace by the mere presence of the boy now called the Black Prince .

Please.

Rhaenyra didn't seem to mind the bloodshed. Her focus was on the fact her sons returned, she smiled and cupped Lucerys face with both of her hands. The love, the warmth, the absolute adoration in her eyes— he envied them for having a mother like that. Rhaenyra kisses his forehead and Lucerys merely takes all the affection he receives— all the while Jacaerys is still in place.

"Aegon…" 

Aemond blinks, what?  

He turns his head towards his older brother who looks absolutely ecstatic to hear his name come from Jace's mouth. Perhaps, if Lucerys says his name, he would look the same— but of course he would be more sophisticated. Unlike his crude brother looks about ready to salivate.

But Jacaerys does not come to his brother.

No.

His nephew offered the brightest smile he could give and rushed to Aegon… the younger, the third. He takes the firstborn son of Daemon into his arms and kisses his forehead, cooing and grinning at the boy who was at least three years old. The little boy giggles and hugs him back.

All the while his brother, the other Aegon, stands frozen. The look of joy fades and misery takes over him, slouching as he hides behind Helaena who quietly comforts him. Daeron joins Aemond, both amused at their brothers' sadness.

Yet, Aemond couldn't help but be thankful that Rhaenyra hadn't named any children of hers after him.

"It's gonna be a girl this time." He hears Lucerys say, hands on his mother's pregnant belly.

Aemond remembers his sister's youngest child. The child who died the very same way his supposedly elder half-brother, Baelon died— born yet never lived.

He could see the softness in Lucerys' eyes, and he could see something akin to desperation. He looks sad. Lucerys kisses his mother's forehead and rests his head on her shoulder.

"We'll name her Visenya, just like you always wanted."

Rhaenyra hummed, "If it's not a girl?"

"It's a girl." Lucerys deadpans, leaving no such argument as he huffed and held his mother close.

"Now, taoba, if you get another brother—" Lucerys didn't particularly care for Daemon's opinions if slapping his hand away had anything to say to it.

Aemond coughed into his palm, trying his best to hide his laughter. 

"Go away. You had our mother for the past three years." Lucerys declares, glaring at Daemon.

Please, look at me again. Aemong stutters out a breath, silently begging for a simple glance in his direction. Lucerys. He thinks of the name as if it were a prayer. Lucerys.

The atmosphere was lighter than expected. Aemond never knew that their family could be so happy after bloodshed, especially Lucerys who was smiling mindlessly as if he hadn't just sliced a man's arm off. Regardless, Aemond enjoyed this moment and hummed to himself as he met eyes with Helaena, who giggled at him.

Their father descended from the throne, looking livelier than he ever was in both their lives. Viserys grinned, opening his arms and welcoming his grandsons. Pride in his eyes as he patted Jacaerys in the back, the boy now a Targaryen in name. Their father had solidified Rhaenyra's claim to the throne by officially naming her son a Targaryen, not only in blood, but also in name.

"How are Corlys and Laenor?" Rhaenys asked, worry clouding her eyes as she turned to Jacaerys. Lucerys was far too occupied with acting like a cat towards Rhaenyra. "Is what you say true? Are they well?"

"Not completely, grandmother. But rest assured they are not anywhere near the hands of the stranger." Jacaerys spoke with a gentle tone, taking Rhaenys' hands into his own. "Father was hit in the head during the fight but only gained a mile concussion, even so, I made sure he didn't go flying on Seasmoke. Grandfather was exhausted and was promptly ordered to rest rather than hurry here. They are on their way as we speak."

Rhaenys smiled softly, patting Jace's cheek and quietly thanking him.

Lucerys seemed to have grown bored of cuddling up to his mother, turning to their grandmother and hummed. "One of us was supposed to stay with them."

Jacaerys' eye twitched, "You were the subject of this petition so it was best I stayed but then…" he clicked his tongue, "Who knows what kind of trouble you would have caused."

"Oh for god's sake! Do you really not trust me to restrain myself?"

"I'd better trust Joffrey to keep you on a leash."Jace scoffed.

Now, Aemond wondered what kind of trouble Lucerys would have caused if left unattended. Maybe he would have gone on a bloody massacre and actually cut Vaemond's head off. Maybe he would have barged in on dragon back, looking as handsome as he was now.

Maybe he would have been covered in blood and Aemond would kiss him until he grew sick of it. Maybe he would drag Aemond away and take him in every single way Aemond wanted him to.

Aemond scolded himself again for such thoughts.

Then footsteps were heard amongst the conversation and the doors were hastily opened. Rhaenyra and his mother glared at the knight, looking frantic and flustered.

"Y-Your highnesses! The dragon keepers have sent me to inform that… that the Prince Lucerys' dragon has become quite violent."

Lucerys seemed to straighten at the mention of Arrax. On the other hand, Jacaerys turned paler than even himself.

"God damnit, Luke! If Arrax tries to bite Vermax's wing off again, I will have your head!" Jace yelled, startling them as they turned towards Lucerys who looked rather offended.

"That was your dragon's fault! Vermax kept annoying Arrax so of course he was gonna be violent! I told you that Arrax isn't some house cat!" With that, Lucerys rushed out of the hall and hurried past the knight.

Jacaerys groaned, "Cunt." 

This time, it was Jace getting hit on the back of his head.

"Mother!"

Aemond had followed him out.

He couldn't help how his body did so, guilt devouring him as he tried to keep up with Lucerys' long strides. Although the boy wasn't as tall as him, he was faster.

He had heard whispers of Lucerys Velaryon and his dragon Arrax. The Black Prince and the white fury. 

Those titles reminded him of Daemon, yet there was some sort of contrast that irked him. Arrax, the white fury, was best known for its speed and ruthlessness in the battlefield. Aemond had heard horror stories from Aegon, who had been able to get information out of whores and some merchants he befriended in the fleabottom. The stories of how Lucerys Velaryon— having said to be the next realm's delight a few years ago— was more likely to be the next rogue prince. They had all thought that Rhaenyra's second son was the sweet boy she kept calling him.

But no, Lucerys was like a cracked reflection of Daemon.

He heard of how the Triarchy seemed to experience a repeat of history, of their defeat by the Rogue Prince and the Bloodwyrm. They grew to fear the Black Prince and the White Fury. It was completely different to the Lucerys he knew.

The boy who came to storm's end, with a dragon who acted upon its rider's emotions. No, this… Lucerys was ruthless and so was Arrax. It confused him why the two, who were the same person, were so different. Pursing his lips, he slipped into the dragonpit and froze.

Arrax, who had been smaller than Vermax in his past life, was bigger than said dragon. Just like Luke being taller than Jacaerys, Arrax was bigger than Vermax. Although both dragons were bigger than the last life, it was still a wonder to see Arrax at this size.

The supposed white fury was growling and snapping at other dragons. Vhagar was also growling at the white dragon, who merely growled back and snapped its maw at her. Vermax acted oddly, shielding the dark red dragon— Joffrey's Dragon Tyraxes.

In the very middle of the chaos was none other than the boy proclaimed as the Black Prince!

" Lykirī! Arrax!"

Please look at me. Hate me, love me. Just look at me and take what is rightfully yours ... Me .

Chapter Text

LUCERYS

“Our houses sigil has three dragon heads. Three dragons. It was always meant to happen three times. And white always dies first.”

Lucerys had noticed a pattern.

The color of Dragons often corresponded to their nature and fate. He had noticed this when studying the scrolls and books he had found on Dragonstone years ago. The little distinction of it made him shudder.

Black Dragons are often aggressive and powerful, made to 'conquer'. Among his brothers, the closest thing to Balerion, Cannibal, and Drogon's scale coloring was Joffrey's Dragon, Tyraxes. From what he read, Tyraxes had been brutal at the time of its death. Massacring foolish men who claimed themselves to be dragonslayers. Tyraxes was dangerous in its survival instinct and protectiveness of Joffrey, perfect for his little brother who was better suited for strategy. A good contrast.

Lucerys didn't particularly know what Vermax's supposed fate was, but he knew that the coloring of its green and bronze like scales meant a connection to that god be damned prophecy or the order of birth. Visenya and Jacaerys were the first born. Rhaegal was named after Rhaegar Targaryen, also the first born.

And then there were those of white scales.

As Lucerys looks upon his dragon, he sees the broken visage of his own past and death. He remembered seeing Arrax's torn wing floating to the surface as he sank. Then he remembered Viserion— and he felt bile go up his throat.

Viserion who has been struck down by the night king and fell into a frozen lake.

He remembered being invisible to everyone but the dragon itself. He ran from Daenerys, screamed as he couldn't save his dragon once again. History repeated itself before his eyes and Lucerys was forced to watch his dragon be taken by the waters once more. He could never forget how he screamed, how even the mortals of that time seemed to hear him cry. The wights could see him, undead beings and even the Night king could see him.

He remembers Viserion returning as an ice dragon, now truly white. He remembered kneeling before the great beast and commanding him to burn.

It was one of the first times he acknowledged Jon Snow as someone who could see him.

White dragons…

Meraxes, Arrax, and Viserion.

They all died first among three. They were the unfortunate ones, along with their riders or their namesakes.

And Lucerys swore that Arrax would not be the first to die. He swore that Arrax would outlive him— become a wild dragon after his death or be claimed by one of his descendants. Arrax would outlast him and Lucerys promised that.

" Lykirī. " He says again, taking one step towards his agitated dragon. Arrax had gotten used to the free skies, the outside world. The dragonpit was a cage to him now, Lucerys had made sure that he would see it as such.

Arrax growled at Vhagar, completely hostile as he bared his sharp teeth. Lucerys grit his teeth, oftentimes he wondered if Arrax also returned from that forgotten past.

" Arrax! Rȳbās, lykirī. Ziry iksos sȳz.  Iksā ȳgha. Rȳbās." He quietly reaches for his dragon, turning Arrax's attention from Vhagar to himself. Focus, calm down. It's fine. You are safe. Focus.

Arrax growls, but lowers himself and calms down, if only for a moment. Lucerys sighs, glancing towards Vermax who was blocking Tyraxes. Whether Vermax was protecting Tyraxes from Arrax, or Arrax from Tyraxes, he was not completely sure. But he knew one thing, Tyraxes was willing to fight Arrax if he became a threat to Joffrey, and Arrax was not afraid to bite its head off. Regardless, Lucerys was thankful to Vermax for restraining it's siblings.

He could feel Arrax calm, until his dragon seemed to smell something. It's head shot up, pupils turning into slits as it growled. Lucerys whirled around, eyes wide as he met his uncle's amethyst eye.

Aemond stood at the corner, trying his best not to flinch at the blatant hostility Arrax displayed.

Lucerys pursed his lips, troubled with the turn of events. After years, Arrax must have fed off his repressed hatred for his uncle. He may not show it himself but Arrax would react to his feelings. 

But he wasn't going to start a war by killing Aemond.

" Focus va issa. Daor zirȳla. Issa. " he whispered, ignoring Aemond for his dragon. Focus on me. Not him. Me. 

When Arrax refused to listen, Lucerys grit his teeth and angrily snapped at his dragon, " ARRAX! DOHAERĀS!"

The pearlescent dragon quietly whimpered at his fury, pressing it's body against the floor. It shrunk, trying to appear weak to appease it's rider's anger—but Arrax knew Lucerys wasn't angry. Not at him. His rider was frustrated, stressed, and angry at himself rather than Arrax. And his dragon promptly reacted, pressing it's snout against Lucerys' to comfort him.

"Good boy…" the blatant exhaustion in Lucerys' voice was clear to his dragon and his uncle. When Lucerys held Arrax for a moment, the two felt each other's emotions. It was like a thread that binded them together, twisting, turning, and tugging but never did it break.

Lucerys knew what it felt to have that thread be snapped in half— twice. 

"Uncle, I suggest you take a few steps back or perhaps leave the pit… Arrax is none to keen to be in the presence of other Targaryens." He exclaimed, sparing Aemond one glance before he urged his uncle to exit the pit.

Aemond, to his surprise, did as was told and exited the pit, but not without constant glances to his nephew.

" Lykirī. " Lucerys whispered again, before departing from his dragon.

His footsteps could be heard, not easily, but they were there and he hated it. He had grown extremely accustomed to the silent of his steps as a ghost and time and time again, for the past seven years, he has despised the sound of his own boots against stone.

He found his uncle patiently waiting for him, hands clasped behind his back. All Lucerys could think about was his foolishness to turn his back on the boy who had taken his eye. The Aemond he knew had been more hostile to him, but this one… he despised how relaxed he was.

It felt uncomfortable.

Although he has read the numerous letters sent by Joffrey, he still refused to believe that Aemond and Aegon had become different. He could reason why Alicent seemed to have changed due to Jacaerys influence over their mother, but Aegon and Aemond had no reason. Perhaps it was due to his apology all those years ago, or maybe it was also because of their mothers kindness and love to them.

He had heard from the letters that even King Viserys seemed to have changed. He was kinder and more considerate to his other children, bonding with them, unlike the previous life. But still, Luke could not lie of how it was an unnerving fact that had troubled him for the past three years.

" Qȳbor ." He quietly called out and Aemond immediately reacted.

His amethyst eye was wide, looking at him with parted lips before composing himself. He stood straighter, as if on guard of something—but it wasn't Lucerys.

"Nephew…"

"Forgive me for my impudence seconds ago. Arrax seems to have been affected by the constant battle for the past three years." Lucerys explained but doesn't speak any further for it.

"Have you also been… affected?" Aemond asked, eyes narrowed with a trace of concern. 

How disturbing , Lucerys thought. Troubling, disturbing, disgusting. Lucerys knew many words to describe it but he couldn't think of all. 

However, he kept himself silent, refusing to answer his uncle's question. He had long since been corrupted by a war Aemond would not know of—two, if he would be honest. The dance of the Dragons and the Game of Thrones. 

He's experienced death twice. He's lost his dragon twice. He had come to know of two Queens killed by an Aegon. He had witnesses their family's ruination.

Lucerys had been broken, shattered, corrupted in many ways and he had lost all care for his sanity. 

"You needn't worry for me, Qȳbor ." He watched as Aemond shivers, "I'm much more capable than my brother when it comes to war. The gods know that Jacaerys would prefer to solve things through diplomacy and only use violence as a last resort."

Aemond seemed to be surprised by his words but Lucerys merely smiled.

It made him wonder how the person he is now was so different from the person he was as Daenerys' Guardian. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he had used up all his anger on the game of thrones that he held little desire to enact upon his hatred. Maybe he has just directed it to someone else.

"Hm… I dearly wish we could fly together some day." Aemond says, his gaze stuck to the sky and Luke could only assume he was imagining a great beast with greenish scales and another with scales purer than snow.

And Lucerys' train of thought crashed as he remembered that stormy night.

He smiled wryly, a bitter taste in his tongue— it felt like blood. "Maybe when Arrax is in a good mood and won't try to bite Vhagar… He's been spending far too much time with Cannibal."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Hm? What?"

Aemond gave him an odd look, but Lucerys merely smiled. His uncle looked wary of him, but Lucerys didn't mind. However, he was concerned for the… sincerity in Aemond's voice. His desire to fly with Luke would have revolted his nephew but the fact he seemed so sad and… and yearning, made him falter for a moment. 

But it still felt weird.

"So uncle, what brings you to the pit?"

"Vhagar, I suppose. But I was quite curious of what commotion your dragon had caused. I must confess that I never expected for little Arrax to get so big and wild…"

Aemond hummed, "Just like his rider." He whispered, thinking Lucerys wouldn't hear. Unfortunately for him, Lucerys had done many things in his death and one of them was enhance his hearing a tad bit.

"You shouldn't expect much from me. I tend to not follow them." Lucerys says, turning on his heel, eager to finally abandon his uncle on the entrance of the dragonpit. The horse he took was being cared for by some stable boys, so he was sure it hasn't fled after hearing Arrax's roar.

However, he didn't expect for his uncle to eagerly follow him, a few steps behind. Lucerys had the urge to punch the man and leave him bleeding on the stone floors but he would receive his mother's wrath if he did so. Like a dog, he thought and clicked his tongue.

Perhaps Aemond's horse was also in the stables and he grew displeased at the thought. When the stable boy brought out his horse, he apologized before rushinf to get Aemond's.

"Nephew—"

Lucerys did not hesitate to mount his horse and hurry back to the redkeep. A little longer in Aemond's presence and he might find himself drowning in the wine offered by the crown lands.

He grimaced, I miss Dorne. 

And he remembers wine and a cunniving woman who became his best friend.

Jacaerys found him deep in his cups, smiling like the damn bastard he was. But he wasn't drunk. Not really.

"Why?" Jace asked, exhaustion on his face as Joffrey poked his head out from behind him. Their little brother giggled at his drunken state, sprawled across his bed and a bit of his chest through his white shirt. "Why are you always like this?"

" Lēkia~ Valonqar~ " the sing song tone of his voice carried on his intoxicated self as he tried to sir up, but failed. He supported himself with his elbows, groaning as he threw his head back before he resumed his lazy grin.

"Join me for a drink won't you?"

"You're acting like Aegon."

Lucerys scowled at Joffrey, who merely shrugged at him.

"Never compare me to that cunt."

"Hm… well, at the very least you aren't whoring yourself." Jace unhelpfully adds, grabbing the last bottle that had at least half of the wine. He spared Lucerys another glare, sneering at the two other bottles he had consumed.

"How are you not drunk? Not drunk, but perhaps wasted."

Lucerys hums, pressing his palm against his cheek. "Dornish wine is stronger. It would have knocked me out by the third bottle. But this? Feels more like boiling tea going down my throat than dragon fire."

Jace shakes his head, as Joffrey wanders around the room Luke was forced to accommodate. All three of them had insisted on rooms that were close to their mothers, to which they got their wish. It had only been a few hours since they arrived to King's Landing but Luke was already drunk.

"Get up, wash. Fix your damn clothes. We will sup with the rest of the family soon. Most of our things have arrived, your clothes are in the closet."

Lucerys groaned.

That wretched feast. He hated the very thought of it but he had to make do with what the gods have given him. He begrudgingly abandoned his bed and trudged towards the bathroom, silently thankful that the servants had provided him with enough water to bathe himself in.

He shed his clothes from his person and stared at the water. He took in a deep breath, shuddering as he dipped one leg into the tub. With a gulp, Lucerys fell into the water and closed his eyes. It only took him five minutes—a minute longer than usual—to shoot up from the tub and grab any cloth to dry himself with.

His breathes were labored, chest heaving as he exited the bathroom and saw his brothers waiting for him.

Both of them had grim looks on their face—not pity, worry, but not pity.

He scowled at them, opening his closet to reveal what clothes he had been able to bring. Most of them were black, blue, red and a bit of white.

He sighed to himself, grabbing the black and white clothing and glanced towards Jace who wore black and red, while Joffrey was in black and blue. Ever since they woke up into this wretched new life, they had refused to never wear a piece of black clothing. The people of Dragonstone, the soldiers they had joined in the stepstones, even here in the redkeep, knew that the Velaryon Brothers wore black more than they did blue.

"Wanna bet?" Joffrey suddenly asked, earning a disapproving glare from Jace but a grin from Lucerys.

Him and Joffrey were the more shameless of the three adter all.

"A fight will break out. Count on it."

"Of course there's gonna be a fight," Joffrey scoffed, "But between who?" And then he grins, one so painfully identical to Lucerys that both of them saw the life fade from Jace's eyes.

"Aegon and Aemond." Joffrey points to Luke, setting his bet.

"Hah! Fine, that's a possibility… Aegon and Daemon."

"Luke and Daemon." Jace declares.

The two turn to him, confused before they wore identical smirks that clearly was the cause of their brothers scowl. "Money is the prize of course, but the losers also have to go against each other in a duel." the eldest declares before turning on his heel and exiting the room.

Dramatic motherfucker, Lucerys thinks as Joffrey snickers.

"A favor huh… sounds good to me," Joffrey laughs, skipping out of the room.

Lucerys was considerably annoyed and a bit wary.

Joffrey was nine and Jace had planned on helping Rhaena claim a dragon… soon.

If I loose an eye for this, I'm running of to Dorne… or maybe I should go back to Essos.

Chapter Text

AEGON

“I'll drink, and drink, until I begin to forget. But I know that the wine will never wash away my sins.”

He would rather be drowning in his wine and crying into his pillow than endure this blasted dinner again. But alas, he would sacrifice his time to catch one glimpse at Jace, who had just entered with Baela in his arms, the two chatting happily.

Then something churned in his stomach.

They were betrothed in the previous life but this time, no such announcements were made. It was odd but Aegon had been happy for the lack of it. However, seeing the two now, he couldn't help the frown he wore as he realized how good they looked together. A scowl painted jtself across his lips as he took the goblet and downed it's contents.

This is gonna take long. He drummed his fingers on the table, earning a scolding glare from his mother and a small smile from his elder sister.

Aemond was soon seated, just beside dear Helaena. Another thing about this dinner was that Joffrey and Daeron had joined, being forced to sir beside each other. Now, only three were missing from the feast.

In a terrifyingly similar fashion, Daemon and Lucerys arrived together with Rhaena in Lucerys' arms, quietly conversing before greeting them. Lucerys looked nothing like Daemon, yet his posture and attitude could make someone mistake him for the rogue prince's son. Regardless, they took their respective seats, quieting down as they observed one another.

To Aegon's displeasure, Otto was still present for this lovely dinner. He merely hoped that his scheming grandfather would be cordial for this event.

"It is wonderful to see the family together again. Where is Rhaenys?" Viserys asked, turning to look for his cousin before his gaze went to Lucerys.

"Grandmother has requested to dine in her chambers so she may rest early. When father and grandfather arrive on the morrow, she wishes to be well rested to greet them." Lucerys explained, humming as his gaze turned towards the wine that one of the servants held.

Similarly, Aegon turned his gaze to said servant. He had smelled the faint scent of wine from someone, specifically the three who had entered last. He didn't think it was Daemon, neither would it be Rhaena. So the only one who he could think of was Luke, and he has refused to believe it.

But then again, many things were different in this world. That also included the behavior of his dear nephews, in which one had a taste for wine just like him. He turned towards Aemond, who didn't seem to notice it. No, his brother was busy trying to drill his gaze into their nephew who, conveniently, was sat across from him.

"Prayed before we may begin?" Their mother asked, having risen from her sear as she smiled towards them. Though Alicent was now well adapting to Targaryen customs— Valyrian customs , she still held her faith. A sort of solace for her, a mother of four dragons.

Aegon chuckled, as they all prepared to pray.

She said the same lines as before, but this time, she did not ask mercy for Vaemond. No, she took in a deep breath and said these words, "And may the gods bless us with everlasting peace and prosperity. May our bonds stay strong."

Aegon hummed, satisfied with such a prayer, happily watched as a servant girl poured wine into his goblet.

"My grandsons, Jacaerys and Lucerys…" his father started, turning towards Jace and Luke. "You were brave to mount your dragon's and battle the triarchy three years ago. Now, you return victorious! Although you have gone through the trials of treasonous whispers, you have prevailed and have grown into fine young men."

A grin came upon the expression of their king, raising his goblet. "Let us toast to Jacaerys Targaryen, future king, and Lucerys Velaryon, future Lord of the Tides."

Everyone, except for Otto, did not hesitate to raise their goblets to the toast. The two being toasted shared knowing looks before raising their own cups with vile grins that seemed to promise danger. 

"To ashes." He heard Jacaerys whisper, the young man narrowing his eyes at the smirk painted across Luke's face.

Soon after their father finished their toast, Helaena stood up and smiled brightly at them. Their mother looked curiously at her as Helaena laughed and presented her own toast. "Let us toast to a prosperous future. Let us toast to us, the house of the dragon." The mirth within her eyes was contagious as they enthusiastically raised their cups to her.

Helaena received dearest praises from their mother and eldest sister, even receiving appreciative smiles from Daemon, Jace, and Luke.

"It must be nice to be properly proclaimed as king." He hummed, glancing at Jace who hummed back.

"Tis a heavy burden I must carry." Jace murmured, but kept his eyes on the scarlet wine that had been served. "How are you uncle?"

Aegon smiled, satisfied with what little attention he received. "I've been well. Aemond drags me to train with him but I must confess that swordsmanship does not suit me. Though, father and Rhaenyra have been making me join council meetings."

That seemed to garner Jace's attention, as he finally met his gaze. Aegon gulped, unable to turn away from dark eyes that had flecks of lilac in them. But he didn't expect the absolute satisfaction in his nephew's face that sent shivers down his spine. 

"Is that so… that's good of you uncle. Quite impressive." Jace smirked, tilting his head and Aegon felt faint.

"So, boys…" Rhaenyra spoke, looking between her two eldest sons. Said two paused, devoting all their attention to their mother. "I heard from your father that you two… took some trips to Winterfell and Dorne during some moments of your peace." And Aegon watched as that attention was readily ripped away and the two refused to look their mother in the eye.

"Luke…" Baela starts, "from the letters Jace has written to me, is it true…" her expression turns from curiosity to mischief, "that you've been running of to Dorne to meet with the Martell heiress, Aliandra Martell?"

Lucerys promptly smacked his lips together, as if trying to get a better taste of the wine. He hummed, proceeding to drink more wine as he decided to ignore his stepsister. Baela smiled ruefully, before she (although Aegon had seen it first) saw the look of terror on Jace's slowly paling face.

Lucerys hummed, grinning as he glanced at his brother. "Ah well… Aliandra is a wonderful young lady and I consider her to be my best friend. Perhaps it is similar… To Jace's darling… beloved… Cregan Stark."

Aegon froze, almost exactly like Aemond when he heard of Aliandra Martell.

His gaze sliced towards Jacaerys, gulping at the small hue of red spreading across the young man's cheeks. He was unlike his brother, Lucerys, who was shamelessly sipping at his wine and marvelling at his it's taste, before disappointment swept through dark eyes.

"I… I see." Baela stuttered out, turning to Jace with an apologetic look.

On the other hand, Aegon was dreading everything. One moment, he was absolutely ecstatic to be receiving Jace's attention, and now he was practically begging for it. Cregan Stark , he grit his teeth remembering the past. There were rumors of Jace having slept with Cregan Stark's bastard sister, Sara Snow, but maybe that was a cover up for the real thing. Even in this new life, Jace and Stark seemed destined to have a connection.

He clenched his fists on his lap, before scowling and grabbing his goblet. It didn't matter that his mother was sending him concerned looks as he downed the wine, it didn't matter that Helaena and Daeron were giving him pleading looks. All he thought of was his own karma for his sins in the previous life.

At the very least, he might be able to stop the dance with his siblings, but a part of him yearned for more than peace within the realm.

Jacaerys.

He remembers having nightmares about that very boy. In his dreams, Jacaerys was always the young and happy boy he was when they were children. But sometimes— those dreams turned into nightmares. He couldn't remember how many times he had snapped awake and cried until the sun rose, in the past and the present. Those nightmares often hade Jace, ten and eight, arrogant and hateful of them.

Those nightmares, Jace would plant kisses upon his lips, his neck, and them he would smile. He would touch Aegon in ways that rendered the poor fool weak, but that was what scared him. The fact that all of it was fake, that even the Jacaerys of his dreams just seemed to be making fun of him as he trailed his finger from his neck and down his torso.

What he wanted was the gentleness, the love, the affection—the warmth of his attention. Not the cold of his lustful gaze that wanted him for nothing but his body. 

Aegon gulped, intertwining his fingers and letting out quiet breaths.

"Would you look at that brother… it's the same as the past. Jacaerys prefers the wolf over you." Aemond murmured, only audible to the both of them. "What a pity."

Aegon stiffened, glaring at his brother before his gaze turned towards Lucerys who got up from his seat and went bounding towards Helaena with a charming smile. It was unlike the past, but it still meant of the Velaryon Boys dancing with Helaena. Their sister smiled fondly, taking his hand and the two happily danced. He glanced back towards Jace, who had a brow raised before he chuckled in amusement.

His mind felt muddled. It was foggy, his thoughts swirling as he was unable to properly think. The wine , he grit his teeth trying to keep his eyes open but dozed of for a moment.

"Truly a pity… that Lucerys hasn't even looked at you for the entire time." Aegon replied, staring at the little wine that was left on his goblet. He saw the way his brother's hand tightenws around his own goblet and Aegon declared himself the winner… the very petty winner.

Maybe it was the wine getting to his head. He felt dizzy, everything felt like a blur as tipped his goblet, finishing the last of the wine. It burned down his throat and he felt the world spin.

He was going to say something stupid.

"It seems like he'd rather run back to Dorne than go anywhere near you… his murderer. " 

Aemond slammed his hands on the table, eyes burning through Aegon who was smirking smugly.

He was drunk . Aegon didn't care for himself in that moment. All he could think of was how Jace had froze at the action, blinking as he turned his blurry gaze to his nephew. Although his vision betrayed him, he saw trepidation on his face, warily glancing at Lucerys who held Helaena so dearly.

Aegon hadn't noticed at first, but he soon saw Rhaena and Baela having joined the dance floor.

"What makes you think…" Aegon whispers, just to make sure that his brother was the only one to hear him. "That little Luke will tolerate this madness of yours."

Aemond grit his teeth, before he raised his goblet, specifically to Aegon. His elder brother froze, finding the situation familiar— yet if was distorted.

"One… last, toast." The mocking tone Aemond spoke in pierced through his patience, "To my brother… Although you were once a drunken fool, you have come a long way from such, with the help of our father, mother, and dearest elder sister." He continued and ignored the confused looks on their faces, "To your prosperity… and to the continuation of your good behavior…"

Aemond smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder and whispering what they others thought was well wishes. But they weren't.

"And may you avoid the brothels and stop searching for lads of dark hair and eyes."

Aegon didn't hesitate to push his brother away, hearing his chair screech as he glared at the cruelty in Aemond's eyes.

This is my karma for tormenting him all those years, he thinks and did something even more foolish. He slapped Aemond across the face, quietly hissing as he felt his hand sting.

Aemond placed a hand over his cheek that was beginning to turn red. There was fury in his eyes and the two lunged for each other. Aemond had knocked him down to the ground but Aegon, who had also been trained, was difficult to hold down. To his surprise, someone had grabbed hold of Aemond and pulled him away from Aegon.

However, all his instincts were telling him to go after his brother. Aegon had lunged towards Aemond, preparing to land a punch, but his wrist was grabbed and he was being held back.

"How dare—"

" Qȳbor, I suggest you calm down now. You two have disrupted the dinner for too long now."

Aegon froze, whipping his head towards the man restraining him. Jacaerys kept him from attacking, narrowed eyes directed towards him. Aegon couldn't help but gulp, trembling as he struggled to get our of his nephews grip. But he couldn't. Jace was strong . 

He let our stuttering breaths, going limp as he allowed Jace to pull him away from Aemond. That's when he noticed that it was Luke who had gotten a hold of his brother. He was baffled but somehow, with an arm around Aemond's waist, Lucerys didn't even struggle to keep Aemond away.

"I—"

"Both of you shut it." Lucerys snapped, harshly pulling Aemond further away from Aegon.

"We'll take them back to their rooms, is that okay with you all?" Jace asked the rest of their family.

Aegon turned towards them all, looks of disappointment were given to him and Aemond. He felt ashamed, pursing his lips and lowering his head. His knees grew weak and he let out a little hiccup. He was weak. 

Their parents and elder sister agreed to such and Lucerys was the first to start dragging Aemond out the door. It seemed humiliating for his brother, as Luke kept an arm around his shoulder and pushed him out the room.

When he was close to falling to the floor, Jace did not hesitate to support him and lead him out the hall. When they were far, far away from the rest of the family, Aegon let out a little sniffle.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry." He whispered, hiccuping as he stumbled. He nearly tripped on thin air but Jace had held him.

The next thing Aegon knew was his feet being swept from the ground and arms supporting his back and under his legs. His eyes widened, staring at Jace who was carrying him princess style without any sort of difficulty. 

"You're drunk."

And thank the gods for that. Aegon was internally screaming, fave as red as the wine he drunk, but thankfully Jace seemed to think him intoxicated. Well, he was, but who was he complain for a perfect cover for his own feelings. 

Aegon slowly slipped his hands to his face, covering it as he could no longer endure his embarrassment.

Jace was so handsome, so strong, so damn gorgeous that he feared that Jace could feel his heart pounding against his chest. By the gods, Jacaerys was the epitome of a god amongst men. With pitch black hair, once brown, but now it seemed as dark as Rhaenys' hair before she birthed Laenor. 

And— oh . Aegon moved his hands away from his face. Muscles , Aegon turned even more red as he leaned against Jace. He was gonna do something stupid: pretend to be drunker than he was.

"Jaaacce" he drawls out, loving the way Jacaerys' name slipped from his lips. He offered a dopey smile, placing a hand on one of Jace's arms and squeezing. 

Oh… Oh! He giggled, leaning towards his nephew who stopped and tilted his head away from Aegon. He could only pout as Jace pushed his chamber doors open with his foot and dumping him on the bed.

The muscly arms that held him were gone.

"Get some sleep, Qȳbor. "

Aegon whined, pulling Jace towards him. His arms circled around Jace's neck, and he was sure his nephew could smell the wine from his breath.

Jacaerys kept his face blank before he smirked, " Ēdrugon, qȳbor.  Kostagon ao wake hen aōha dreams.  Se sagon haunted ondoso aōha qringaomnon ."

The only thing Aegon understood was sleep. 

Aegon woke up in the morrow to Daeron screaming bloody murder.

"JACAERYS AND LUCERYS ARE HAVING A SPARRING MATCH! GET UP!"

Then it hit him.

Sparring match equals sweaty and panting Jace.

Aegon had never moved faster as he washed his face, dresses, and slammed his door open. He ran to the training grounds, not even waiting for Daeron.

Chapter Text

DAEMON

”They’ve returned from war acting more and more like me. Once the future Realm’s delight now the future Rogue prince. I couldn’t be anymore proud.

When he married Rhaenyra, Daemon never expected to get a taste of his own medicine. He once made the foolish mistake of complaining to Rhaenys and Viserys of his troubles and earned laughter from the elder two, who shamelessly told him that he finally knew what they felt.

He dearly wished they were exaggerating, but no.

Daemon had expected the three boys to stay their sweet and adorable selves from the moment he first learned about them. He had met Jacaerys and Lucerys at Laena's funeral and the two were absolute delights, Joffrey was similar. But after his marriage to Rhaenyra, the two (Daemon highly suspected Joffrey was also in on it regardless of his age) had constantly attempted to get rid of him in the name of their darling mother.

So when Lucerys and Jacaerys returned from the stepstones, he had let out an exaggerated sigh that earned him a nudge and a malicious smirk from Rhaenys.

Jacaerys was, at the very least, restrained and disciplined. He was every bit noble and honorable that made Daemon somewhat relieved… that is until he condoned Lucerys behavior and seemed to silently encourage such destruction and violence from his brother.

Then there was Lucerys. The sweet boy of his delightful wife. The boy who, once upon a time, was said to inherit his mother's title of the realms delight. But again, no!

Rhaenyra had nearly fainted when they heard the rumors of her sons. The rumors in which Lucerys was feared and referred to as the Black Prince, along with his bloodthirsty dragon, the white fury. Had it not been for the fact Lucerys did not look like him and the time of his birth, Daemon would have suspected the child to be of his blood. But nope, Aegon III was his first son.

So here Daemon was, receiving withering looks from Rhaenys and Viserys as they watched Lucerys speak and act like his younger self. The chaoticness of his action and the violent gleam in his eyes was so reminiscent that Rhaenys had offered an accusing glare at him.

And then, Vaemond had to audacity to insult his precious wife— he was about to kill the fool of a man. Again, it's a no.

Lucerys and Jacaerys had beaten him to it, threatening to poor fool with their clearly sharpened swords and their eyes filled with fury. Daemon prayed to the gods that those boys would kill Vaemond as he desired but Jacaerys had practiced restraint and ordered for Vaemond to be brought to the dungeons.

Vaemond had been stupid. He had refused his stepsons mercy and went for Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra! Who was pregnant with their youngest child (a daughter, as insisted by his wife and all of his children.)

Then, did Lucerys show that he was perfect to inherit the title of Rogue Prince instead of Aemond. Daemon had been baffled by the prospect of Aemond being similar to him. The boy only looked similar to him, nothing else. He was well disciplined, somewhat obedient, and seemed rather docile. No, the title of Rogue Prince was for someone who craves violence, who wanted chaos, who thrived in destruction.

Lucerys was perfect.

As Daemon tried to go for Dark Sister, he had been too late. To his shock, Joffrey had been the one to grab it from his waist and aim it directly at Vaemond, who had now lost his arm.

His sword was taken by a fucking child!

By the gods was he proud of them.

Blood permeated the air and all Daemon felt was pride.

The scene in front of him was perfect. Jacaerys, who was merely revolted that a filthy severed arm of a cunt was anywhere near his family, had kicked it towards the poor lords and ladies of the court who looked ready to vomit at the sight of it. Lucerys who had this feral look in his eyes that expressed how much he wanted to kill the cunt who threatened his beloved mother. And Joffrey— the youngest of the three who was said to be an angel, looked absolutely wild with Dark sister in hand and putting himself in front of his mother and siblings.

These boys were his just as much as they were Laenor's.

"They are perfect…" he whispered, grinning like a madman.

"These boys are mine own, no matter what those fools say."

And so Daemon wondered whether he should give Dark Sister to Baela or to Lucerys. Either way, it would be in good hands.

Maybe Daemon had underestimated the boys… yes, he definitely underestimated them.

"Dornish wine is stronger than this… it tastes like shit." Luke carelessly stated after he returned from Aemond's room.

"What have you done to your uncle?" Rhaenyra asked, narrowing her eyes at the crude language her son spoke in. But Luke merely shrugged, taking one last sip of the wine King's Landing had to offer and grimaced. 

"Nothing bad. I just dropped him on the floor of his chamber and had some… choice words with him."

"Lucerys…"

"What? I just told him that if he causes you more trouble I'd have Arrax chase him around the crownlands." Lucerys smirked, cackling as he set the glass down.

The doors were pushed open and Jace entered, along with a giddy Joffrey who held a bag that Daemon suspected were coins. The youngest of the Velaryon Boys grinned at Luke who seemed to have realized something and scowled.

Shamelessly, Joffrey extended his hand and silently demanded something of his brother. Jace merely sighed and took Luke's goblet and downed what was left of the wine. On the other hand, Luke begrudgingly handed Joffrey his own bag of coins and the boy laughed happily.

"What… what is this?" Rhaena asked, gesturing to the triumphant Joffrey who was jumping around the room with his winnings.

"I won our bet! Aegon and Aemond actually got into a fight!' Joffrey laughed, hugging the bags of coins with a devilish grin. "And the losers have to fight."

"Boys!" Rhaenyra was quick on her feet, but Joffrey continued to cackle and Jace and Luke stared at each other. In perfect unison, they smirked, bloodthirsty and violent.

I need more wine. 

Rhaenys stared at the ever so exhausted Daemon, "Lucerys really does remind me of you." She says, "You were once such a sweet boy, following around aunt Alyssa and being called her precious son. Similar to how Rhaenyra calls Lucerys her sweet boy… and yet you two end up like this when you grow into your adolescence."

Daemon glared at her but Rhaenys merely rolled her eyes. "Cousin, do you remember the time dear Daemon once bit uncle Baelon's hand for upsetting your mother?"

Viserys laughs, "Ah yes! Father had this little scar on his arm from that and mother often threatened him with Daemon every time he upsetted her." His brother turned towards him, mirth in his eyes as he grinned happily. Daemon softened, happy to see his brother so lively. "Are you sure Lucerys is not your blood son?"

Daemon sighed, shaking his head as he groaned. There were just the three of them in the room. The atmosphere was peaceful with the fire crackling and wine being passed on to each other.

"Menacing boys… they betted on a fight during dinner."

"Oh? And who won?"

"Joffrey of all people. He got himself bags of coins and his brothers have to fight each other since they lost."

Viserys hummed, intrigued by the information. "Jacaerys and Lucerys sparring… that would be a nice show. Perhaps the winner could fight you."

Snorting, Daemon shook his head and smiled. "We'll see."

So here he was, unfortunate enough to witness the sparring session between the Velaryon boys. Corlys and Laenor had arrived hours ago, being greeted by most of the family. All three Velaryon boys had been their for Laenor and Joffrey had immediately ran to his father screaming bloody murder on how they abandoned him.

Of course, Laenor merely laughed and showered his youngest in praise and offered proud smiles to his elder two. 

So here they were, watching as Jace and Luke stared at each other. Neither wore much armor, Luke wearing a black shirt and seemed rather bored. Jace was wearing a dark red shirt and looked equally bored.

"Are we sure this is a good idea?"

"Absolutely not." 

Laenor snorted at his reply, "Then why are we even allowing this?"

"Do you want to stop them?"

"Seven hells, no. I'd just get in the way and get stabbed by both of them." Laenor shakes his head but the man tilts his gaze towards another group watchinf the two boys stare down at each other. "Seems like mother's comment on you getting your karma might just be right."

Such a comment confused Daemon, until he turned towards what Laenor was talking about. And he cursed, and cursed, and cursed for it.

Aemond was watching Lucerys with such devotion that intensely reminded Daemon of how he looks at Rhaenyra. Then, Daeron came strutting towards his brother as Aegon nearly tripped. The boy looked like a mess but his eyes lit up like stars when they landed on Jace.

By the gods, this is my karma. 

His gaze met with Viserys' and his brother had the audacity to laugh at him. HE LAUGHED! His impertinent brother may be king but he should, at the very least, have mercy upon his younger brother and help him control those (son stealing nephews of his) brats!

 The little match began with Joffrey smugly strutting towards his brother, looking like a miniature version of Lucerys. The boy, who was once announced as the angel of house Targaryen, the son who would surely inherit his mother's title, reveled in his brothers' chaos and destruction as he announced the two to begin their little fight.

Daemon had witnessed them fight before. As children, Lucerys and Jacaerys were ruthless during their training sessions. Lucerys worse than his brother, who had made it his mission to beat the shit out of every knight on Dragonstone. He could never forget the day his stepson demanded for knights to fight as the ones he had beaten refused to fight him again.

Lucerys was the first to attack, not hesitating to go after his brother. Jace had parried his blade immediately, gritting his teeth and trying to push Luke back. With the elder of the two overpowering his brother for a moment, Luke was forced to retreat and Jace immediately went after his brother.

The sound of metal slamming against each other attracted the attention of the present subjects of the realm. Be it knights who planned to train or lords and ladies who were strolling around the keep. They all paused as they watched the ruthlessness of the princes who refused to back down to the other.

Daemon carefully observed their posture, their movements, every single action they did. He was impressed. The two seemed like veterans now rather than boys who had trained for four years before running off to war for three.

But he worried for Luke. 

Rhaenyra's sweet boy had been ten and three when he insisted on joining his father and grandsire in the stepstones. He was more eager than Jace actually. Then, came the raven that had brought them news of Lucerys allying himself with Dorne and frequenting Sunspear.

He did not know what was going on in that boy's head but Daemon knew that he would have to forfeit his little title of Rogue Prince one day.

"Three years ago… when the boys had only been on the stepstones for six months… we were ambushed by the triarchy during a reconnaissance mission. It was us, and a few soldiers." Laenor murmured, keeping his gaze on his sons. "Jace and I had landed to discuss with our troops on what we found… and the triarchy had come and attacked out of nowhere. Some of them had been able to put chains on Vermax and Seasmoke and the both of us tried to save our dragons."

Daemon frowned. The Triarchy weren't exactly honorable… After his time at war with them, he would somehow expect their caution to dragons, but he didn't like the thought of one being chained… literally. He shuddered at the thought of his dear Caraxes in chains, fury boiling within him.

"And Lucerys came…"

He blinked, confused at the shiver that seemed to go through Laenor's spine.

"He didn't even hesitate… he burned them all down, not caring that some of our soldiers may have perished in the dragon fire. He didn't hesitate and somehow… by some miracle or perhaps his precision, none of our soldiers were killed." Awe laced Laenor's voice as he stared at Lucerys who had nearly knocked down his brother's sword.

"When the remaining troops of the triarchy tried to flee, he didn't even use fire… Arrax had landed on the ground and hunted them down with its claws and shredded them… I'm quite sure Arrax had eaten some of those poor fools."

Daemon froze, eyes going wide as he snapped his gaze towards Lucerys. There was some sort of red in his stepsons eyes, as if blood had trickled down into his irises and carved into it.

"When only one was left, Lucerys had dismounted Arrax and beheaded the man himself. What was so disconcerting about it was how unaffected he seemed… as if he was used to it." Laenor murmured, his awe turning into worry. "Ever since then, Lucerys had been given the moniker of black prince. For the entire war he wore black and sometimes red… the sight of him and Arrax causes many of the triarchy to retreat." 

Daemon agreed with Laenor. The fact that Lucerys doesn't seemed fazed at the prospect of murder was concerning. Daemon, a man who was said to be merciless and cruel, had his own limits. He didn't have a penchant for blood until he had come of age, until he became ten and eight. But Lucerys had not hesitated to kill a man since he was ten and three. Three years had gone by and Daemon wondered how much more willing Lucerys was to kill.

"Rhaenyra should rethink that nickname she gave him. Sweet boy , is not something to describe him." Daemon clicked his tongue.

"I don't really think so… aside from his bloodthirst, Lucerys is… genuinely a sweet child. He is devoted to his mother and is a loving brother. When little Viserys was born he had frantically written to his mother about her health and if she and his brother were okay. It took me, Jacaerys, and some others to hold him back from returning to Rhaenyra. Although Jace, eventually, seemed to be in need of holding back as well."

Daemon snorted. Of course those boys were ready to abandon everything for their mother and little brother. He intensely suspected that those two wouldn't be leaving anytime soon with Rhaenyra pregnant.

Among the three boys, Jace and Joffrey had been present during the births of their youngest siblings. Jacaerys who had worriedly demanded to be present with his mother as she birthed Aegon, and had been a great support to her when Daemon couldn't handle the pain, the possibility of losing both Rhaenyra and their child.

When Aegon was born, Jace had given him a little sympathetic look and had been the first to have Daemon hold his first son.

Joffrey had been able to sneak into the room when Rhaenyra was in labor with Viserys. Although the nursemaids and midwives had been shocked and flustered to see him, Joffrey did not hesitate to be a source of comfort to their mother and tell her that everything would be alright. Once again, Daemon's fears had taken over and Joffrey had been the one to drag him to their chambers to meet little Vis.

Lucerys isn't even going to let anyone force him out the room once the next is to be born. Daemon fondly thought, and watched as Lucerys pinned his brother to the ground, sword art Jace's throat. Daemon whistled, clapping as Luke panted, cackling as he rejoiced his victory.

"Luke wins!" Joffrey happily announces, "Also, what's your count this month?"

Jace groaned, as Luke offered his hand pulled his brother back to his feet. "I won four this month and Luke has won three."

"Woah… when are you two going to let me in on this?" Joffrey pouted.

"Not us. We'll find a better sparring partner." Jace declared, wiping the sweat of his forehead.

Luke immediately chuckled, "I'll bring you to Dorne next time I go."

Daemon was quick to clear his throat. Lucerys was vaguely attached to Dorne just as Jace was to the north. Although he didn't understand why, he preferred that not another one of his stepsons to run off to who knows where.

"I don't think your mother would like you bringing your brother to Dorne… not yet at least." He approached them, relaxed and confident. The boys had been less hostile to him over the years and now the four of them decided that they would simply lovingly attempt harm upon the other. Truthfully, Daemon found their assassination attempts delightfully dangerous!

Lucerys sighed, "She definitely wouldn't. You think you can convince her to let me take Joff? Or at the very least, let Jace drag him off to the cruel, cold north."

Jacaerys rolled his eyes, hitting his brother on the shoulder. In perfect fashion, Luke let out a dramatic groan and pouted at his brother.

“I’ll try but I wouldn’t want you to drag poor Joff off to Dorne as well… how about convincing Laenor first.” Daemon slyly gestures to Laenor, who was watching them with interest. 

Joffrey, the boy claimed to be Laenor’s favorite, was the first to go running to their father with a bright smile. “Father~” he yells and grabs onto Laenor’s leg, using all the cuteness he had to force Laenor to comply with his wishes. Daemon shakes his head, rightfully terrified of the child.

“How was Dorne? I do not understand why you are so fond of that place. We aren’t particularly welcomed there.” Daemon turned to Lucerys, intrigued by the fact that the boy had accomplished some sort of alliance with the Martells.

Luke shrugs, “As I said before… Aliandra and I are good friends and Princess Dyana seems to adore me. Prince Qoren on the other hand… Well, he’s grown on me recently, unlike our first meeting. Not to worry though.”

Daemon shook his head, doing just the opposite.

“Really, kepa …” Jace insists, turning to Luke with a small glare before returning his gaze to Daemon. “Lucy can handle himself.”

He knew that… But nothing was stopping Daemon from being concerned.

See what fatherhood has done to me, mother. I do hope you are proud.

Chapter Text

JACAERYS

”I wish I were as heartless as them. I wish I was not so merciful. I wish the burden will not make me suffer.”

Jacaerys Targaryen was not as ruthless as his brothers.

Among the Velaryon boys, there needed to be someone who could hold the invisible leash connected to his brothers. Lucerys and Joffrey were murderous and neither would hesitate to burn Westeros down for specific reasons. Jace existed to stop such destruction, to stop the ruination his brothers would willingly cause in their name.

He was the second to die. Unlike his brothers, Jace died in battle. Luke died in an accident , something his brother was eternally bitter with. Joffrey died trying to save his dragon and getting shaken of by one. But Jace? He had died in battle, he had died with honor in his heart and a nobility that history books should have spoken of. Jacaerys Velaryon died in battle and his brothers did not.

It was ironic really.

How he was the one who died fighting the war and he does his best to stop it. He does his best to be polite, to understand the greens in this timeline. He tries to be cordial, civil — he does everything to stop a potential war that destroys their family. He tries, he really does, but sometimes he wants to be just like his brothers.

To let lose, to forget his duties and burn everything down. He wants to be like Lucerys, who carved a throne in the battlefield and earned the moniker of Black Prince. He wants to be like Joffrey, who is free of duties and knows everything that is happening in court. He wants to be like Luke who doesn't have to care about the iron throne and is raining hellfire on their enemies. He wants to be like Joff who had the capability to bring Westeros to it's knees with the knowledge in his hands. He wants to be like his brothers, who were dragons trapped in human bodies.

Jacaerys was heir to the throne.

He needed to be level-headed. He needed to be calm. He need to be fair. He needed to be able to exact justice at the right moment. He couldn't be cruel. He couldn't be power-hungry. He couldn't desire for war. He would be a great king that history books would praise after centuries, not a tyrant that will be hated for eternity. He couldn't be like his brothers, who wouldn't hesitate to kill those who have wronged them. It was his job to stop them, to stop any more bloodshed that will come. But that doesn't mean he couldn't prepare for a war. 

There is little comfort in the red keep. No matter how many memories of home it once had, Jace could feel the hostility from the walls. Admittedly, the battlefield gives more comfort and safety than this den of dragons and vipers.

He closed his eyes, lying on his bed. It felt like he was about to melt into the sheets, his body allowing itself to relax even for a moment. The image of Winterfell comes to mind. He thinks of Cregan, he thinks of Sara. He thinks of the comfort they have provided him in this life and the last. There is this need to run in the pits of his stomach, desperately trying to crawl out from the cage he had placed it in.

Winterfell, the name echoes through his mind, unable to erase itself. He wants to return to the north. He wants to roll around in the snow and maybe chuck a snowball straight to Luke's head again. 

There is no sound that enters his room. Only his own voice resounding from the walls of his mind.

There is a knock.

"Jacaerys?"

His eyes shot open and his body sits up straight. Aegon , he frowns as he leaves his bed to open the door.

As expected, his silver haired and mildly drunk uncle is what greets him. Aegon smiles, a hesitant and nervous smile that Jace was somewhat familiar with. The soldiers who fought with him in the stepstones often wore such smiles around him and Luke — they knew the two of them were better, not because of their status but because even without their dragons, Jace and Luke could kill them all without an issue.

Aegon wears the same anxious smile.

"Uncle… what brings you here?" He asked, not allowing Aegon into his room. This seems to bother his uncle.

"I… erm…" Aegon stutters out, "I just wanted to check on you."

"Oh? Why is that?"

Aegon does not answer immediately. He hesitates from what Jace could see. "Lucerys was particularly hard on you… Aemond says that you sustain some injuries due to him."

Jace tried not to wince. Unfortunately, Aegon had been right. Lucerys had been brutal, as usual, and he sustained some injuries. Some parts of his body had gone black and blue from his brothers attacks, specifically his arms, legs, and a bit of his sides. This was a normal occurance with siblings who thrived in violence. Jace expects Luke to be in a similar condition although that is obvious — he wasn't particularly gentle either.

"I'm fine," Jace dismissed, "Luke isn't perfectly fine either. You needn't concern yourself with this. It's a normal occurance between us."

Aegon, once again, hesitates.

Jace doesn't understand why he's trying to be nice. Aegon hadn't been nice since the incident in Driftmark. He doesn't think Aegon's ever been genuinely nice to them — he can't remember a single moment.

"Still…"

"Aegon what do you want?"

Patience was something Jacaerys prides himself in. He was more patient than his brothers combined but something about Aegon just made that patience snap. Was it because he was a usurper in his past life? Was it because he killed his mother and had his little brother watch? Jace didn't know but a part of him deeply resented Aegon for so many things. 

Yet… something about the Aegon before him looked so helpless, so hopeless, so fucking pathetic that Jace actually felt bad. It made him want to vomit.

"... Spend time with me." Aegon requests and Jace just knows he's trying not to make demands.

But it doesn't change the fact that such a request sounded so ridiculous with Aegon making it. Half-lidded eyes bore purple hues. Jace thinks they look a bit magenta, maybe it's the light, or maybe the wine has seeped through his body that it's affected his eye color.

"Let's go flying… we promised each other we would, right?" Aegon's tone was… soft, quiet, helpless. It reminded Jace of Joffrey. The promise was made when they were children, naive, innocent, ignorant to the darkness within the walls of their home. 

Jace wanted to say yes.

"I'm busy."

But he should never forget what Aegon had done.

"Please…" Aegon pleads as if Jace had directly harmed him.

Redemption, he thinks. It was real. People could change, the future has changed, so why couldn't Aegon change. Jace purses his lips — in his mind he can hear Lucerys telling him of how soft he was. How easy it was for him to forgive those who have wronged them. He can hear Luke calling him pathetic.

Yet… yet he can't help but remember the vow he made years ago. To have balance in the family. As Luke did not like showing mercy, Jace would have to. He would have to forgive — not forget. It was all for the greater good, for the sake of their family. Luke was scared of a future he didn't want to speak of, only vaguely mentioning the extinction of the Targaryens. He feared for a future as well.

So he allows himself to relax for a moment, unconsciously cupping Aegon's cheek and staring into his uncle's eyes. He feels Aegon freeze with his touch and Jacaerys feels power . 

He knew he had control. Aegon looked so helpless , it would have been easy for Jace to take control. Is this how Luke feels? His brother had revelled in the power he possessed, the control he had over so many. Stop that… you will be king, these thoughts will hinder your rule in the future. 

But he could use this.

There was this incessant need to please in Aegon's eyes, his hands were trembling, as if he wanted to hold Jace. Jace tried not to let his intentions show, he tried not to reveal his emotions. His face was perfectly blank, but he lets a small smile slip.

"If you behave for the week, then perhaps I can make time." He leans forward and pulls Aegon closer. He hears Aegon's breath hitch. "Be good for me, won't you uncle? If you don't cause a fuss for the entire week, if you be good then we'll go flying."

Aegon squirms and Jace moves his hand away from his face and wraps it around Aegon's waist. He smiles at his uncle, leaning even closer so his breath may grace Aegon's skin. The older prince let's out a small whimper, trembling like a newborn kitten — but he doesn't try to pull away. No, quite the opposite. Aegon seemed to move closer, silently begging for Jace to hold him tighter.

Now that he thinks about it, Aegon was rather light when he carried him back to his chambers the night before. Jace didn't have a good look or feel of his uncle's body in his drunken state. The night before, he had reeked of alcohol, almost worse than Luke when he found his brother vomiting of the ship when they visited Essos.

"Be good and I'll give you what you want." He says and let's go of Aegon. There is this distraught look on his face that Jace pitied, but the dark haired prince stood firm and disciplined himself. He shouldn't let his desires get ahead of him.

"I—" Aegon stammers, "Of course… Of course… I'll… I'll be good." Jace sees a flush spread across his face and he was sure it wasn't the wine.

A satisfied smile spreads across his face and he pats Aegon's silvery head.

"Splendid. Now if you'll excuse me, I must rest."

"Wait—"

The door was promptly slammed on his face. 

"What did you do?"

Baela's accusing gaze pierces through him as she stabs her fork into the cake. Her gaze shifts from Jace to the window, where there was a perfect view of the training grounds.

"Nothing."

"Are you sure? Because Aegon has been suspiciously quiet for the past three days. Not only that…" she trailed of, placing the cake into her mouth. Her eyes landed on the three silver-haired individuals training, along with one dark-haired boy cleaning a crossbow.

"Now why would you think that's my fault?" Jace feigns confusion, innocently blinking at her.

Baela narrows her eyes, scowling at him. "If Luke likes threatening people with knives, and Joffrey's secret blackmailing, then you focus on people's emotions, their reactions. Your brother's could care less about that if they won't hesitate to stab people, but you? Your capable of making people do your bidding with their emotions. So what did you do?"

Jace shrugged. His stepsisters deducations had always been scarily accurate. But ironically, Baela was almost exactly like Luke. Rhaena was like a combination of himself and Joffrey, however.

"As I said, it's nothing. I merely promised to go flying with him if he behaves." 

Baela gives him an irritated look.

"Just that?"

"Yes! What do you think, I'd promise to sleep with him just because he goes a week without a scandal?" Jace snaps back and the two are glaring at each other. He decides to grab his fork and bite on a piece of cake to calm himself.

"Of course not." Baela rolls her eyes. "But I expected a bit more, not just flying. Something like going to the fleabottom with him, or pestering Luke." She drawls out, gesturing to the view outside the window. 

Aegon had just been knocked down by Aemond, while Daeron had narrowly dodged an arrow Joffrey had fired. Of course, the youngest Velaryon feigned regret and guilt, plastering his angelic mask and people could see him apologizing to Daeron. However, the youngest Hightower dragon was frowning, shaking his head as he removed the arrow that had almost impaled his shoulder. 

"Speaking of Luke, where is he?"

In an instant, Jace's heart dropped to his stomach.

Where was Luke?

He hadn't seen his troublesome brother since the day began. Even when they broke their fast, Lucerys was absent (although that wasn't too uncharacteristic). However, he hadn't been sighted at all. 

"Where's Rhaena?" 

"With Helaena. She wanted to go on a flight with Dreamfyre."

He hasn't abducted Rhaena to help her get a dragon, he pursed his lips and was on his feet in seconds. Luke's disappearances often lead to chaos. Last time that happened, Jace had to drag his brother out of the walls of Sunspear while Aliandra Martell was telling him of how much Lucerys had drunk. He had been near inconsolable when he found out Lucerys had finished two bottles of Dorne's strongest wine. 

His eyes turn towards Joffrey, who was visibly bullying Daeron while Aemond was trying to kill Aegon. 

"Jace?"

"We'll have to find him soon. It's Luke we're talking about. Him going missing isn't a good omen."

Baela nods in understanding. "I'll stay here. When Rhaena and Helaena come back, we'll scour the keep— in case he's been hiding in the walls and all." She states and Jace is thankful for her. He pressed his lips against her temple, smiling happily before he hurries to the training grounds to fetch Joffrey.

"Also, prepare some cold water. If I find him drunk, we must make him sober immediately."

Joffrey was trying to shoot at Daeron's eyes. Jace immediately blames Luke.

"Joffrey! Go get dressed," Jace calls, and his little brother stops his attempt at mutilation. The youngest of the three Velaryons turn to him with a bewildered look, reluctantly lowering his beloved crossbow.

"What? Why?"

Jace pursed his lips. He glances at their three uncles, who have stopped their activities to listen to them. He sighed, "Luke's gone missing."

"... You jest— By the gods, you're not joking." Joffrey groaned, scowling at the sky. "You sure he hasn't kidnapped Rhaena—"

"She's with Helaena on a flight."

"Damn."

There is silence for a moment before Joffrey starts running to his chamber. Jace sighed, following after him to get himself a cloak and soon, the two are out of the red keep without anyone noticing… it would have been perfect had it not been for the three who were following them.

"Uncles… go back to the keep." Jace scowled at the three, who glanced at each other and shook their heads. He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as Joffrey stares at Daeron intently.

"Your hair really is noticable." Joffrey flatly states before he turns on his heel, his cloak bellowing with his movements. "Come on now brother. Our dear uncles won't be hindrance, right?"

Jace could hear the sarcasm in his tone. Again, he was blaming Luke for his bad influence on Joffrey. Damn Lucerys, corrupting little Joffrey. Even with three years at war, the demon still managed to corrupt their little brother from a great distance. It was sorcery, he refused to believe anything else. 

"Why would you think Lucerys isn't in the keep?" Daeron asked, walking by Joffrey's side. 

Joffrey glances at Jace, "He hasn't been sighted since the day began. If no one has seen him then that logically means he isn't in the keep."

Jace grabs at Joffrey, forcing him to his side. He feels Daeron's glare but he doesn't care. Quietly, he whispered, "Have you heard anything about our dearest brother? Even the smallest of whispers." 

Joffrey shook his head.

Jace huffs, Let's get this over with .

They maneuver through king's landing until they arrive to the one place their uncles didn't expect to be in. The Fleabottom. He feels Aegon's bewildered stare, as well as Aemond's demanding one. But one thing was for certain, the Targaryen brothers did not expect to go to the Fleabottom.

"If we find him in a brothel, can Tyraxes bite his legs of?"

"Only one. If we ever go to war, he has to be able to move, at the very least." Jace grumbled, pushing past the crowd of peasants and common folk that were rotting.

"Lucerys is in a brothel?!" Aemond hisses.

Jace merely shakes his head. "Luke is more interested in getting drunk and picking fights than having sex. If he did want to fulfill his carnal desires, he might as well have run back to Dorne." He vaguely explained, pulling Joffrey to his side and inevitably picking up his little brother.

Joffrey may have been nine years old but that didn't make him difficult to carry. Although that was never an issue, considering how Joffrey eagerly wrapped his arms around Jace's neck and scowled at the filth that surrounded him.

The thing about Lucerys was that he didn't need sex for his carnal needs. No. The adrenaline of battle was a perfect substitute, apparently. Lucerys was an alcoholic, a drunk at best, but he wasn't some lustful fool that would pay a whore to suck his dick. The only time he had witnessed Luke entering a brothel was when one of their informants were undercover in one. If the future lord of the tides entered a brothel, it would be to gather information, or it would be a desperate attempt at hiding from his brothers. 

Jace suspects that they would be lead to a tavern rather than a brothel. Or perhaps an underground fighting ring. It had only been a few days since they sparring match and that was enough to make Luke pent up. 

As he carried Joffrey, his little brother was attentively looking for any signs of Luke. Thankfully, he really did have great eyes.

"There! That tavern serves dornish wines!" Joffrey pointed to one particular building that was almost jam packed with customers.

Jace could smell the familiar scent of Dorne's wines and immediately knew his brother would be hiding there. He set Joffrey down, pushing him to Daeron and narrowed his eyes at the two.

"Keep an eye on him. I'll go drag Luke out."

"Now hold on nephew." Aegon interrupted, "You can't just leave us out here. All of us should go find Lucerys." He smiled, a sense of mischief in his eyes that had been missing a few nights ago.

Before he could even protest, Aemond was already marching into the tavern and Jace was forced to run ahead of him. He couldn't let his uncle see Lucerys in his drunken state first. 

As they entered the tavern, Jace threateningly reminded his uncles to cover up their hair. A single glimpse of their silver hair and Lucerys would have bolted out the door before Jace could even speak. Reluctantly, Aegon and Aemond fixed their hoods and lowered their heads. While Joffrey had practically grabbed at Daeron's hood and pulled it down on his face. The other boy snarled at him.

They did their best to be discreet, glancing around for Lucerys and listening for his name. Then they heard loud cheers and their eyes immediately went to the crowd making so much noise. Eyes went wide as they saw Lucerys chugging down some dornish wine like a man in a desert. As the bottle was emptied, red stained his lips and a drop of the wine slipped down his jaw.

"ONE MORE ROUND!" Lucerys cackled as the bartender laughed and was handed him yet another bottle. He looked absolutely drunk, grinning like a fool as he exchanged the bottle with a small bag of coins. Without a single bit of hesitation, Lucerys removed the cork and tipped the bottle to his lips.

Jace grits his teeth, watching as his brother laughed and almost spilled the alcohol. A blonde haired young man, a few years older than them, was laughing alongside his brother and was keeping him on his feet. Maybe it had been the wine, or the situation itself, but Lucerys kept grinning at the man as he was set down on the chair. 

And his little brother was leaning forward.

Nope . Nope. Nope. Nope. I let him loose his virginity while we went to war, I am not gonna watch him make out with some stranger. 

Jace marched towards his brother, carelessly shoving people aside. He hears Joffrey cheering him on and cursing at Luke. Slamming his hand on the table, the occupents of the tavern momentarily go silent as Luke dazedly turns to him. For a minute, Luke doesn't react but a grin splits across his face and his foggt eyes spark.

"Brother!" He yells, wobbly getting back up to his feet. The man with him chuckles, attempting to hold his brothers hips but Jace slaps his hand away and supports Luke himself. "Come—" he hiccuped, "Come have a drink with me you rigid sod." He slurred his words, leaning against Jace as he tried to grab at the wine.

"What are you doing here?" Jace snapped, pushing the wine away. He notices that the tavern had gotten back it's noise, thankful for it. Glancing at the bartender, he grimaces and offers a small apology. Thankfully, the bartender merely waves him of, stating that Luke was a great customer who actually paid for the drinks he ordered.

At least he's not cheap , Jace drags his brother back to their uncles and Joffrey. He sees their shocked faces, unable to remove their eyes from Luke who was being dragging his feet.

"At least he's not in a brothel." Joffrey snickers, trying to get a better look at his drunk brother. 

The six of them return to the red keep, with Jacaerys dragging Luke. They slip into the secret passages, silently hoping that none of their parents witnesses them dragging a heavily drunk Luke back into his chambers. Unfortunately for them, they hear Rhaenyra call for Luke.

Jace is quick to start cursing.

His mother didn't deserve to see her sweet boy (a nickname that definitely did not fit the current Lucerys) in such an atrocious state. He takes a deep breath before hastily handing Lucerys to Aemond.

"Bring him to his chambers. No one must know that he is in this state." He tells his older uncles before turning to Daeron and Joffrey. "Get Baela. Wait for me. I will distract mother for now, it will be quick."

The four nod and Jace slips out the secret passage. He sees his mother, holding her pregnant belly looking dazedly for them. Guilt creeps into his heart before he pinched himself. No. She mustn't know Lucerys is like this when she is still pregnant. Maybe after the pregnancy we can throw Luke to her. 

He plasters a smile on his face and approaches his mother.

" Muña , would you like to take a walk in the gardens with me?"

They better get that drunkard to his rooms.

Chapter Text

AEMOND

"It's unfair, yet at the same time it is what I deserve. Is this love or obsession? Am I allowed to love him or not? Nevertheless, it is painful to see him love someone else."

"Daenerys…"

Aemond stiffened as he heard Lucerys whisper such a name. It sounded valyrian. It was valyrian — one of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne's children were named Daenerys. Surely, Lucerys was not speaking of their deceased great-great Aunt. 

He followed Joffrey through the passages, supporting Lucerys on his back as he hooked his arms under Luke's legs. His nephews arms were dangling over his shoulders — he was quite heavy. Aemond suspected as much with all the muscle he's earned over the years. That didn't stop him from shivering as he tried to keep still. He resisted the urge to just change the way he was carrying Lucerys, the piggyback was troublesome but a princess carry would have been efficient.

Still, he silently complied and carried his drunken nephew. He never did expect for Lucerys to be… like this. He wasn't quite like Aegon, running amock in the streets of silk and fucking a bunch of faceless whores. Lucerys had ran of to a tavern, drank himself to the point of oblivion. He had grinned, smirked, spoke like a man who has spent far too much time in Dorne. Once again, that should have been expected considering the rumors that were surrounding his beloved nephew.

Aemond grit his teeth as Lucerys shifted, pressing closer against him. He suspected his nephew had opened his eyes, considering that he had pulled away and almost caused them to fall back. But Luke only pressed himself closer to Aemond, his arms seemingly twitching until calloused hands were gripping his shoulders tightly. Aemond let out a shaky breath, shuddering as he felt Lucerys breath against his neck.

"Daenerys…Dany…" Lucerys whispers as if it were a pray. His nephew began to shake, as if he was crying but the only thing Aemond manages to process in his words was a simple phrase in high valyrian. " Avy Jorrāelan." I love you.

Aemond couldn't breath, he was frozen on the spot as his grip on Lucerys tightened. His nephew whimpered slightly, whining as he tried to move away from him.

(He failed to realize the entire sentence, Avy Jorrāelan, hāedar. )

"Where—"

"Nephew, stay still." Aemond growled.

Avy Jorrāelan , he grit his teeth and continued moving, who the hell are you professing your love to? He frowned but tried to ignore the bitter jealousy erupting in his chest. It felt like a firestorm about to burst.

But maybe he deserved this. He glances towards Lucerys, who seems to be regaining consciousness. The boy he was carrying was the very boy who he had chased into a storm and watched as him and his dragon plummeted to the sea. Arrax's remains had been found but nothing of Lucerys was. Aemond feared the mere fact that Vhagar may have eaten him. He remembers staring at his dragon, seeing the flash of blood upon her maw and he could no longer bear it. He would stick his head under the water and hope that his instincts wouldn't take over, that he would drown to death.

He vividly remembers such things from the past. Such painful memories he tried to forget but he couldn't. He remembered the years without Luke. The years he spent looking at the mirror and wishing he had just let his nephew blind him, maybe then he wouldn't be seeing his silhouette at every turn. He remembers gazing down at Alys. He would whisper her name but his mind screamed another's name.

It hurt really.

"Aemond?" Lucerys slurred out, trying to take a good look at him.

Aemond simply sighs. His name rolling of Lucerys' tongue sounded satisfying. It sent tingled down his spine and he simply nodded.

"Where're we goin'—" Lucerys hiccuped, "Mhm… Jace promised me— promised to take me to— ah… I don't remember."

"Ask him later. Be quiet for now. We don't want your mother seeing you like this." Aemond was sure that Rhaenyra would have started crying if she saw her son wasted like this.

He feels Lucerys nod, but it ends up with his nephew nuzzling against his shoulder. "Okay… Okay…" he whispered, "I don't like you… you hate me. You want to kill me." Lucerys continued and stops just for a moment.

Aemond tries to process why he was saying these words. He would be lying if he said that he hadn't flinched. He did. He did hate his nephew. He did kill him. But now he didn't. He didn't want either of that.

"I hate you… sooo much." Lucerys laughs, before groaning again.

He glances towards Aegon and Daeron who are giving him pitying looks. He was sure they heard his heart shatter into pieces. 

But then again, this was his fault. Of course Luke was going to hate him.

A bitter smile graces his lips. It is inevitable… for one of us to always hate the other. Lucerys may not have hated him in the past life but Aemond did. Now the roles have reversed and Aemond is punished with Lucerys' quiet resentment towards him. But he would endure. He would accept his hatred and hope that one day that he could be loved by the boy, no matter how bloody it would become.

The arrive to Lucerys' quarters.

Aemond, although very reluctantly, lowered him to the bed. The one-eyed prince could clearly see his nephew now. His clothes were a mess, his hair was disheveled, and he looked to be in slight pain. Lucerys groaned, rolling around the bed and trying to bury his head into the pillows. He had seen Aegon like this, drunk yet in pain from a future hangover.

"What do we do now?" Aegon asked, turning to Joffrey.

Daeron had been told to get Baela, who immediately ran out the room. It left Aegon, Aemond, and Joffrey to care for this severely drunk Luke.

The youngest Velaryon just sighed and went into the bathroom. He is gone for a few seconds before he returned and sat on his brother's bed. Joffrey, angelic to the masses, shamelessly runs his hands over his brothers clothes. Aemond was about to scold hm but Joffrey began to pat Lucerys body, as if looking for something. Seconds later, the boy had found three daggers. Lucerys' boots hid one each and the third was on a strap that hid behind his thigh. Joffrey simply hums and places them on the bedside drawer. 

It doesn't take long for the door to be opened again. Baela enters, along with her twin and Helaena. Daeron soon follows, carrying a bucket of water, the poor boy was struggling as he trudged to the bathroom.

"Where did you find him?" Rhaena curiously asked, looming over Lucerys. She leans forward, trying to get a better look at him.

Aemond resists the urge to just push her away, tell her to move. He quietly moves towards Luke's bed, standing on the side as he observed his nephews semi-unconscious state. Lucerys could barely open his eyes, groaning or muttering something under his breath. They couldn't exactly identify what he was speaking of, it was to quiet.

But Aemond copies Rhaena and listens quietly. Again with that blasted name! Daenerys, Dany, Luke whispers like a prayer. Who the hell was this woman for Lucerys to be obsessing about.

It was unfair.

He clenched his fist, grit his teeth, and watched as Lucerys try to sit up. He was still mumbling about something and Aemond only caught the words: Bastard, Snow, Hūra, and Zaldrītsos. An odd set of words but those were the ones that were coming out of his mouth, along with that wretched name.

He hears the door open again, glancing towards the door. Jacaerys entered with a frown on his face, "Did you bring the wate?"

"It's still cold." Baela replied.

Jacaerys ran a hand through his hair, "He's going to hate me for this," he mumbled.  Without a second thought, Jacaerys heaved Lucerys to his feet and dragged him towards the bathroom.

The Targaryen brothers glance at each other, bewildered. It isn't until they heard a loud splash and a crude curse word echoing through the room that they realized what Jace had done. Their sister's heir left the bathroom, hissing and rubbing his shoulder. Luke soon followed, drenched as his black shirt stuck to his skin. Aemond silently followed the droplet of water going down his chin— No!

The two dark-haired Velaryons glared at each other, not backing down even when Lucerys plopped himself on to his bed.

There was nothing but silence between them… untik Lucerys opened his mouth.

"Arsehole."

"Drunkard."

"Dickhead."

"Scumbag."

"Cunt!"

"Whore!"

Aemond hears Aegon choke on his own saliva, coughing as s they gaped at the yelling match. Such atrocious words coming out of the mouths of the supposedly valiant and chivalrous Jacaerys. He could have expected it from Luke, considering he was quite vicious in the stepstones, plus him being a future pirate. 

The entire room was stunned, aside from Joffrey. The youngest of the brothers shakes his head and tries to separate his brothers. Joffrey grabs a towel from somewhere, handing it to Luke then rummaging through his closet. He takes out another black shirt and gives it to Luke, who murmurs a thank you.

"Why… the fuck , were you in the bloody fleabottom?! Have you no shame? Mother is pregnant and you go drinking yourself to death, you fucking idiot!" Jace yells. "We've just proven the allegations of our legitimacy wrong and you go doing this?! What is wrong with you?" 

Lucerys scowls, "You of all people should know that there is many things wrong with me."

Aemond flinches.

"Oh yes! My demonic brother who slaughtered a quarter of the triarchy… we are not in the stepstones! Watch your actions you bloody fool!"

"Jace…" Rhaena whispers, looking frightened at her stepbrother's yelling.

"Jacaerys, calm down."

"Do not tell me to calm down. My brother would have caused yet another scandal!" 

A frown graced Aemond's lips. A scandal? None of them have heard of any scandals regarding Lucerys. There were rumors of his insanity and bloodthirst but there wasn't any kind of scandal that would affect his reputation, aside from making him as intimidating as Daemon. He'd have to look into that.

"I'm not that bad." Lucerys murmured.

"Not that bad? Not that bad?! Do you have any idea what our soldiers whispered when they heard about that rumor? They called you a traitorous whore!" 

Immediately, Aemond stiffened. Never did he expect anyone to have enough audacity to even refer to Lucerys as that. Rage bubbled inside of him as he watched as Lucerys stared at his brother with an unreadable look. Were those soldiers punished? Were they dealt with? Did something dispose of them for slandering the name of the prince third in line for the throne? Why the hell were they doing nothing?

The only thing in his mind was punishing the fools who dared to insult his dear nephews. If no one was willing to make the verdict, than Aemond personally would play judge to those soldiers. All he needed were names and he'd surely track them down and dispose of them— he would be quick about it (he'd torture them until they were begging forgiveness). 

He stares at Lucerys, silently begging him to look at him. Please, stop thinking about that woman and look at me! Please Lucerys— and he does look.

Lilac eyes are met with black. The world goes silent.

Lucerys looks back at him for a few more seconds before he turns to his brother. A cruel smile plastering across his face and it makes Aemond gulp. He feels himself shudder, stating at his nephew with interest and anticipation.

"So what? They stopped, didn't they?" Lucerys continues to smile, "None of them particularly want to be Arrax's meal."

Aemond eyes are blown wide at the revelation. He had underestimated the cruelty his nephew possessed. The rumors surrounding the Velaryon Brothers consisted of their behaviour in the battle field. But to think… Lucerys was willing to feed his soldiers to Arrax for insulting him was a terrifying yet… arousing prospect.

Shamefully, Aemond took pleasure at the thought of Lucerys' ruthlessness, his viciousness, his cruelty. Aemond wanted it.

Anger was a raw emotion and he would have it eventually.

He turns towards Jacaerys, who is speechless at his brothers bluntness. The boy second-in-line to the throne grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to take calming breaths. Displeasure was evident in his expression, trying to make sense of his brothers lack of shame and humility. But that was what happened when you spend many days in Dorne. But even he was surprised at the difference between the Lucerys of this time and the one from the past.

Jacaerys shakes his head, "Fix yourself." It is a phrase that Aemond once said to Aegon in their last life, something they oftened heard from their mother to his elder brother. "Mother does not deserve a son like you."

"I know."

He sees Aegon flinch.

Soon enough, they slowly leave Lucerys' quarters, giving wary and concerned glances to the Black Prince. Lucerys is blank faces as they leave and the only one left is Aemond. As Helaena's gaze lingers on him, she closes the door and silence reigns once more. Luke didn't seem to mind his presence, his back falling to the bed.

Their eyes met, as Aemond watched with fascination. Lucerys hair flopped away from his face. It was quite cute in his opinion.

"Why are you still here?" 

"I am concerned."

"You don't need to be." 

"But I want to." His voice is a whisper as he tried to keep his gaze steady. Yet Lucerys' eyes pierced through his soul, as if he saw all the sins Aemond has committed — including his death . 

"Aemond…"

His eye lights up as he stared directly at his nephew. Lucerys' face is still blank, not a hint of emotion. Yet Aemond could see it all in his eyes. Absolute fury, yet there is curiosity.

"Fly with me later."

It wasn't a request. It was a demand that Aemond wouldn't dare to refuse.

For once, he allows a smile to grace his lips. "Anything for you, Lucerys."

"It is strange."

Aemond turns to Daeron, frowning at his little brother. They were in Helaena's room. For the few minutes they had been present, they refused to speak. Lucerys had disturbed them, not Aemond though. He absolutely adores his nephew to be disturbed.

Aegon asks, "What is?"

"Everything? The Velaryon Brothers especially." He whispers, as if unsure about his choice of words. He glances around the room, as if one of said brothers were listening. Daeron was right to be suspicious — Joffrey had the terrifying ability to know everything within the keep.

"Joffrey and I never interacted in the past. I didn't him that much but even I k ow that he wasn't like this! He's not normal, his behavior isn't something a child his age would have…"

Aemond agreed. Joffrey was concerningly malicious for a boy of nine years. Even he wasn't that bad at that age. But then again, he was Lucerys brother. The same boy who took his eye at the age of nine.

Yet Aegon —surprisingly— has an answer to such concerns. "He isn't much different from the past. Did you know that when Lucerys died, the first person to go mount his dragon to avenge his brother was little Joffrey?"

He and Daeron stared at him in surprise, unbelieving to his words. It was absurd, of course they wouldn't believe him. Little Joffrey?

"I lived the longest among the four of us, ironically so." Aegon laughed bitterly, "But I lived long enough to hear about his death. When the common folk stormed the dragon pit, it was Joffrey who mounted Syrax to save his dragon. Unfortunately, sister's dragon shook him of and he fell to his death."

It was morbid. Joffrey couldn't have been older than Lucerys when he died. All of them had outlived their nephews. Admittedly, it was their fault in the first place. He had still been alive when Jacaerys had died. His nephew had only lasted a year and a half after Lucerys' death, dying by arrows and falling to the see.

Then Helaena behind to whisper, "The boy who fell… Three Princes falling to their demise. From the backs of the dragon to the sea and the ground… death opens their arms as they fall towards the stranger." 

They go stiff at the revelation.

Every single one of the Velaryon Boys fell to their deaths… 

And Aemond was the first reason for the first fall.

Chapter Text

DAERON

“I never understood what was so special about them. They were always 'Bastards' from what I was taught... But perhaps it was that burning flame that made them different.”

Daeron liked to think he was the sanest of his brothers, ironically.

His brothers were stupid idiots that had somehow fallen in love with the very people they had technically killed. It was odd, really. For every son of Alicent, there was a dark-haired son of Rhaenyra to match. Aegon had Jace, Aemond had Luke, and Daeron was stuck with angel-looking Joffrey who was not a normal child. 

One of the most vicious of Rhaenyra and Daemon’s children and it was a child three years younger than him. Nevertheless, there was a flaw to Joffrey’s viciousness. 

He was afraid of heights , very ironic for a Targaryen. Aside from the fear of heights, Joffrey also despised his mother’s dragon. It had been something he noticed when they took trips to the Dragonpit. Joffrey avoided Syrax like the plague and struggled to bond with his own dragon. He had found it suspicious and tried to address this to his brothers, but they were too dimwitted to pay attention to his woes. At least Helaena was willing to listen.

But no matter, Joffrey was—oddly enough—his closest friend.

For the past three years, the two have spent more time together than with anyone else. Perhaps it was the fact that he and Joff were the closest in age, but that could hardly be an influence on them. Daeron was not the type to seek out any friends after he had returned from Oldtown. That place had been pleasant enough but he knew the scrutinizing looks of the followers of the seven for his own appearance. Targaryens were not well loved as some may ignore. Daeron, although the son of an extremely religious queen, was fascinated by the  gods of Old Valyria.

The fourteen flames have always been an astounding subject to him.

So safe to say, aside from his Hightower relatives, there were those who warned their children of the Targaryen boy that had been sent there by his mother.

But then there was Joffrey.

Daeron had always thought Joffrey to be a lonely child. With his brothers leaving him to go to war, or his sisters who have busied themselves in learning politics or the art of the sword from Uncle Daemon. Joffrey was loved but those within the red keep, with his smile and adorable looks, he was sure to steal hearts.

He had been known to sail away to the Vale to visit his Arryn kin. Daeron had listened to Joffrey happily speak of his cousins and how he seemed to look a lot like their grandmother. But Daeron had also seen something… fake.

Joffrey always seemed too bright, too delightful, too angelic for someone of Targaryen Blood. Helaena was angel-like but she carried an aura of knowing that scared people off.

Joffrey was to perfect a man… that it felt fake to Daeron.

But sometimes… sometimes Daeron thought himself special.

“Nephew…”

Joffre turned his head immediately, that gleam of child-like glee in his eyes that Daeron did not particularly like, faltering. “Uncle!” he yells and ignores that cooing of the maids to rush to him.

The thing about Daeron and Joffrey’s relationship was the fact that Joffrey was more—

“Let’s spar later! Luke taught me how to stab someone properly,” he whispered.

—Honest.

With Daeron, Joffrey showed how much of a Targaryen he was, the side he hid from most, even his mother. He did not doubt that Joffrey was this cruel when he was with his brothers. He’s seen the older two of the Velaryon boys, everyone has.

Jacaerys, with his sharp and cold words. A politician, a diplomat that would drag you to the pits of hell if you do not respect him. Jacaerys commanded respect and had honor. Yet that honor was flawed when he did not get what he wanted. He was righteous in his own way and those he saw as guilty were punished painfully. They had heard of Jacaerys running off to the north, befriending northern men and ensuring that his dragon saw beauty in the snow. Some thought him to be a twisted Jaehaerys.

Lucerys was the worst of his brothers. The Black Prince as some call him. Daeron had not heard much of the battle in the stepstones but ever since the Velaryons had returned, every single rumor they could salvage had come pouring in. The Black Prince who fed his enemies to his Dragon. The Black Prince snapped a man’s head off with his bare hands. The Black Prince that was adored by Dorne. It was undecided if he was Daemon or Maegor.

But Joffrey! No one said anything bad about Joffrey. Joffrey was an angel compared to his brothers.

Everyone was blind.

“Actually, nephew,” But Daeron was perfectly fine with returning such cruelty. He led Joffrey away from the crowds of servants that shamelessly awed at him. “Why don’t we go flying today?”

And Joffrey stiffens at the suggestion. He has never backed down from a challenge before, not when it was Daeron taunting him. 

“ Hae skorot avy buqan mirriot aōt vestretan? ” Joffrey whispered, grinning angrily. Have I ever told you how much I despise you? 

“ Skorion? Eglivoti vaoresō daor? ” What? Can’t stand heights?

Daeron only rolled his eyes and walked away. His nephew was far too hard headed not to follow him.

“I’m not hard headed, you pompous hightower cu—”

Daeron stopped dead in his tracks, gaping at the vulgarness of Joffrey’s mouth. His nephew stared at him, a hand to his mouth before aggressively shaking his head and smiling darkly.

“Never you mind!”

“Did you just—”

“I’m telling Luke you called me hard headed!”

Joffrey huffed, marching away and rushing to his brother’s room. Daeron rolled his eyes, slightly annoyed at his nephew’s attitude. Reluctantly, he followed his menace of a nephew and marched straight to Lucerys’ room.

“Luke? Luke?” Joffrey angrily knocked.

The fact that Joffrey had actually run off to snitch on him was baffling. Does he trust Lucerys that much? Daeron thought.

When there was no answer, Joffrey stared at the door dazedly. He looked down at his hands then back to the wooden door. Then the unthinkable happened.

“LUCY! LUCY! WAKE UP YOU DRUNKEN CUNT! I WILL CHOP YOUR FINGERS OFF IF YOU DO NOT OPEN THIS DOOR!”

Daeron stared in disbelief as Joffrey started kicking the door. His eyes seemed to flash red in anger but nothing came.

No answer.

“Huh…”

“I understand that you are violent, but not this violent.” Daeron stated, receiving a dead stare from Joffrey.

“Lucy and Jace might let me train with them… If I show them I’m capable of fighting…” He murmured, shaking his head before running off to the closest guard he could see. Unfortunately, it was one of the Cargyll knights. “Ser Arryk!”

Cargyll turned towards the youngest of the Velaryons and smiled fondly. “Hello prince Joffrey. What may I assist you with?”

As per usual, Joffrey flashes him a smile. “Where has Lucerys gone?”

Cargyll easily answered, “Ah… I heard that he has departed for the dragonpit.”

Joffrey stiffened.

Daeron on the other hand, well, the youngest hightower dragon found an immediate liking to Lucerys’ absence. A perfect opening really. So he took this chance and placed an arm over Joffrey’s shoulders.

“See? I told you going out on a flight is a good idea.” Daeron grinned and chuckled. He jokingly shook his nephew who lay stock still. He turned his lilac eyes towards the knight; Cargyll looked concerned. A look of fear and confusion flashed across his face and he excused himself from their presence.

The older prince faltered for a moment, flashing a gentle smile towards his nephew. Yet, it was not the fake smile Joffrey wore that was given to him. Not the annoyed and menacing look he usually got. This was different. It was more genuine than the mocking words his nephew often drilled into him.

Perhaps he saw something wrong… maybe it was a trick of the light… but at that moment…

Joffrey really did look ready to kill him.

The Dragonpit was oddly lively. Usually, when Daeron visited Tessarion, it would only be him and one other Dragon rider that came to enter the place, that is, if you exclude the keepers. But this time…

“Lucy!” Joffrey immediately ran to his brother, practically jumping into his arms in the process.

Lucerys catched him effortlessly, cradling like some baby. The younger of the two buried his head into the Black Prince’s shoulder and shamelessly complained about him—Daeron especially.

He wouldn’t lie about being frightened by the dark look Lucerys sent him. Indeed those two were brothers, if looks could kill then Daeron would have died twice. That gaze was worse than the one Daemon used to send them. Instinctively, Daeron stepped towards Aemond, but he knew that would be useless. Aemon was far too smitten with Lucerys to actually do anything.

“What are you doing here?” Lucerys asked.

“Was looking for you…” Joffrey stated, before his voice lowered to the point only Lucerys heard what he said.

It was odd really… To see someone as menacing and dangerous as Joffrey and Lucerys having this loving and affectionate moment. The elder of the two didn’t mind carrying his little brother as if he were a babe and regarded him with wrapped attention. He paid attention to Joffrey with this softness that Daeron has never known…His brothers were not like that to him. Helaena was gentle, but Daeron wanted his brothers…

He glanced towards Aemond, who looked just as dazed as him.

Aemond…well he was at the very least capable of praising Daeron appropriately. After they returned from the future, his brother was somewhat more emotional, he was genuinely capable of being affectionate… to a small extent, of course. Still, Aemond had actually gone and tried to create a proper relationship with the rest of them.

The fond memory of Aemond dragging him and Aegon to the training grounds to practice popped up immediately. He wondered if Lucerys and Jacaerys did the same with Joffrey.

But as he continued to watch their dark haired nephews, a hand was placed on his shoulder. He immediately jolted at the contact, instinctively slapping the hand away as if it were an enemy. He glared darkly at—Aemond?

To his surprise, Aemond looked understanding of his reaction. Daeron faltered, pursing his lips and looking away.

“What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you’ve decided to follow Joffrey…”

“I was the one who suggested flying… I may have teased too much then he went looking for Lucerys.” he admitted, there was no point in lying.

His one-eyed older brother nodded in understanding. “Lucerys said we’d finally be able to go flying after he’s recovered from his hang over.”

“Really now? He really did seem to hate you… I wonder why he’s decided to finally play nice,” Daeron teased.

Aemond glared at him, pinching his cheek in a playful way. Over the years, the hightower-Targaryens had slowly eased up in their relationships and behaviours so it was fairly common to see them arguing like normal siblings.

“Hm… maybe he can convince Joff to go flying as well…” he whispered watching as Joffrey smacked his brother’s shoulder with a frustrated expression. Lucerys looked sympathetic but also stern.

“YOU OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD UNDERSTAND!” 

Daeron and Aemond froze at the shout.

They observed the brothers that were simply bonding a minute ago. Now Joffrey was gripping his brother’s shoulders like his life depended on it. It only took Daeron a moment to notice those same hands slowly enclosing around Lucerys’ neck. It was dangerous, worse when even Aemond reacted.

Yet Lucerys just stared at his brother who he was still carrying, not giving a damn about the fact he was about to be choked. He was gentler than they expected.

“Keep your voice down,” he said.

Joffrey seemed to finally realize they were still present, snapping his head towards them. There was an unspoken fear in his eyes as he slapped a hand to his mouth and buried his head into the crook of Lucerys’ neck again. Said Black Prince sent a vicious glare in their direction, not concerning himself with how threatening he seemed.

“Just give it a try… Tyraxes may be lonely without you in the sky…”

“But…”

Footsteps were heard as they all turned their heads towards the new arrivals. To their surprise…

“Oh… it seems like we’re not the only ones who planned on flying.”

Sunfyre and Vermax were instantly alerted by the arrival of their riders.

“Lucerys, Joffrey…” Jacaerys stared at his brothers in bewilderment, then to Daeron and Aemond who stood closely to them. “Why are you…”

“I got bored and decided to go on a flight. I invited Aemond for some reason, pretty sure I was still drunk when I made the suggestion.”

Ah… that must have bruised his brother’s feelings. Daeron snickered as Aemond sent a weak kick to his legs, earning a scowl from the one-eyed prince. His expression soon turned into that of a hurt puppy when he looked back at Lucerys.

“And Joffrey?”

Joffrey refused to answer, just shaking his head staring dead into Jacaerys’ eyes.

“What about you?” Joffrey asked, “Why’re you here with our alcoholic uncle?”

Daeron narrowed his eyes at Joffrey.

Aegon had been doing everything to abandon such tendencies. His brother had avoided the brothels and their mother had wept when she had noticed it. Aegon has reduced to going to the brothel once or twice a month, sometimes never at all. Regardless of that, at the very least, he’s trying. It was hypocritical really. Lucerys was almost as bad of an alcoholic as Aegon.

The way Aegon flinched bothered him.

Daeron… Daeron did not have a proper connection to his elder siblings. Aemond, Helaena, and Aegon were closer in age and were never separated as children—unlike him who had been shipped off to Oldtown when he was five namedays old. But he loved his siblings. He was learning to cherish them, they were his family… yet… why was it so easy for Joffrey and Lucerys to—

" Kīvȳso tubī zijomy sōvīnna ." Jacaerys murmured, the valyrian language rolling off his tongue perfectly. Daeron knew basic Valyrian but he still struggled to decipher what they were saying. The words promise and fly he could recognize. 

(I promised to fly with him today.)

" Ah... drīvose mirros dorudrimmi gōntā !" Lucerys replied with a cackle. This was a little easier to understand. Ah… you've actually done something stupid!

Jacaerys glared angrily at his brother's who shamelessly mocked him, not noticing how Aegon seemed to shrink at their words. Daeron narrowed his eyes at Jeffrey, who no longer hid under the veil of a child's kindness. He showed his true colors, not caring for the backlash he would take. He supposed it was because his brothers were present.

"Regardless of what promises you've made, I'm taking Arrax out on a flight. Best he gets out of here from time to time or else someone ends up being his meal." Lucerys smirked as he set Joffrey down. 

Right , Daeron thought, He's threatened to feed his own soldiers to his dragon before . 

Death was something they had known, but Daeron feared something within Lucerys that he couldn't explain. The Lucerys he knew from the past was more akin to the realm's delight title rather than rogue prince . It bothered him greatly and instantly, he understood that among the Velaryons, Lucerys was the deadliest. Someone who was willing to slaughter anyone who got in his way.

"Come now little brother," Lucerys said, "One flight couldn't hurt. You have to get over it at some point…"

It sounded like a threat yet not a threat.

"I—"

Lucerys did not allow him to speak further, " Māzīs Arrax! " 

A roar was heard as the dragon keepers hastily opened the gates of Arrax's cage. The supposed white fury stretched it's wings and immediately approached their rider. The bond between them was clear and Daeron couldn't help but envy it.

Tessarion was his precious, yes, but he didn't have that kind of bond with her. She was not as free as the rest of the dragons, considering they had been cooped up on oldtown before returning to King's Landing. He turns towards the dragon with amazing azure scales, a dragon that stared at him intently. He tried to smile at her, nodding as the Dragonkeepers slowly released their respective dragons.

"Make sure Arrax doesn't try to bite Vermax," Jacaerys threatened.

Lucerys just rolled his eyes, mounting his Dragon with perfected ease. His dark gaze watched them carefully, lingering on Joffrey who warily took a step back from Sunfyre, Vhagar, and Tessarion. 

"Joff, get on Tyraxes right now before I drag you with me on Arrax."

"You can't make me!" 

"I can and I will!" 

Jacaerys shook his head, "Shut up."

Daeron blinked, watching Joffrey as he hesitantly scurried on to the scarlet dragon. Tyraxes crooned at his presence, leaning their snout towards Joffrey. The little prince smiled bitterly, gently caressing the scarlet scales. 

"Do you need help?" 

Joffrey jolted, glaring angrily at Daeron.

"I don't!" 

"You sure?" Daeron titled his head, "You are… short."

Really, he was. Most of the Velaryon Boys were fairly short before reaching their adolescence. Joffrey may be the shortest, or not… if that were true then that would mean… 

"Don't get any taller."

Joffrey kicked him, his face flaming red as he quietly cursed under his breath. 

"Behave…" he murmured, trying to Mount his dragon but struggling. Tyraxes was far too excited, far too restless. In the end, Daeron was snickering at an angry Velaryon who was ready to scold his dragon.

Although… 

"Hey! Hey! You insolent—" 

Daeron knew there were eyes on them. Specifically the observant eyes of their brothers. Joffrey was lighter than he expected, it was easy for him to grab him by the armpits and help him up the saddle. 

"See? Not so bad?" Daeron rolled his eyes, shaking his head and sighing. What was so wrong with asking for help? Daeron was older than him so it was normal to assist someone like Joffrey, who was younger. "You can ask for help some… times…"

He never did understand what was so special about the Velaryon Boys that made his brothers so pathetic. The only thing he could see was their bloodlust and danger. To him, the brothers were willing to kill them all for their own benefits, for Rhaenyra's benefit. The war had killed all three brothers and they were easy to kill. So what was so special about them?

At that moment… Daeron finally understood. Seeing the embarrassment painted across Joffrey's face and the swarm of emotions burning in his eyes made something snap. All those feelings were directed at him. So angry, so repulsed, so prideful that simply helping him had damaged his ego.

"Ah… that's why."

Maybe it was because of that ethereal fire they carried that made his brothers fall like they did.